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ROMANTIC   DAYS 
IN    OLD    BOSTON 


"  The  great  memories,  noble  deeds  and  sacred 
places  of  old  Boston  are  the  poetry  of  history  and 
the  keenest  ripeners  of  character."  — Wendell 
Phillips. 

0?<1 

"  The  history  of  Boston  is  written  in  the  best 
things  that  have  befallen  this  land."  —  Henry 
Ward  Beecher. 

t>?<J 

"  Boston  State-House  is  the  hub  of  the  solar 
system.  You  couldn't  pry  that  out  of  a  Boston 
man  if  you  had  the  tire  of  all  creation  straight- 
ened out  for  a  crow-bar."  —  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes. 


. 


:1 


FRANCES    ANNE    KEMBLE. 

From  the  painting  by  Thomas  Sully,  made  in  1832,  in  the  possession  of 
the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 


Centenarg  Edition 

ROMANTIC  DAYS  IN 
OLD  BOSTON 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  CITY  AND  OF 

ITS    PEOPLE    DURING    THE 

NINETEENTH  CENTURY 


BY 
MARY  CAROLINE  CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR   OP    "OLD   BOSTON   DAYS   AND   WAYS,"    "THE   ROMANCE  OP 

THE    AMERICAN  THEATRE,"    "SOCIAL   LIFE   IN  OLD  NEW 

ENGLAND,"    "  IN  THE  DAYS   OP  THE   PILGRIM 

FATHERS,"    ETC. 


With  Numerous  Illustrations 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1922 


Copyright,  1910,  1922, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1922 


P 


"2L 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRAkV 

CHESTNUT  HILL  MASS. 


POINTED  TS  THE   UNITED   STATES   OF  AmEBICA 


NEILL  LIBRARY 
y  BOSTON  COLLEGE 


ill 


M 


PREFACE  TO  THE   CENTENARY 
EDITION 

BECAUSE  Boston  is  this  year  celebrating 
the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  its  grad- 
uation from  a  town  into  a  city,  the  oppor- 
tunity seemed  ripe  to  revise  and  bring  up  to 
date  this  book  about  Boston  in  the  nineteenth 
century  which,  for  some  years  now,  has  been 
out  of  print. 

Much  has  happened  to  Boston  during  the 
dozen  years  which  have  elapsed  since  the  Fore- 
word to  the  first  edition  was  printed  But  more 
—  much  more  —  has  happened  to  the  world. 
It  may  still  be  true  that  "the  anti-slavery  strug- 
gle will  be  the  romance  of  American  history," 
but  the  way  in  which  the  boys  of  Boston  — 
and  of  all  the  other  cities  and  towns  and  villages 
of  our  land  —  were  equipped  for  war  and  trans- 
ported to  Europe  on  the  wave  of  an  overwhelm- 
ing enthusiasm  to  "make  the  world  safe  for 
democracy,"  may  well  constitute  the  romance  of 
international  history  when  that  story  shall  be 
written  in  its  entirety. 

With  the  idealism  that  made  this  high  achieve- 
ment possible,  nineteenth-century  Boston  had, 


vi     PREFACE,   CENTENARY  EDITION 

I  am  persuaded,  much  to  do.  At  the  present 
moment,  too,  certain  small  but  devoted  groups 
in  Boston  are  striving,  just  as  Bostonians  strove 
in  the  sad  days  that  followed  our  Civil  War,  to 
make  sure  that  what  Boston  boys  died  for  shall 
not  perish  from  the  earth. 

The  enfranchisement  of  women,  for  which 
Boston  in  the  nineteenth  century  struggled  as 
did  no  other  city  of  the  country,  has  become  a 
realized  ambition  since  this  book  first  appeared. 
Let  us  hope  this  new  gift  of  power  may  yet  help 
Boston,  and  the  world,  to  realize  that  other 
dream  of  enfranchisement  connoted  by  the 
words  Brook  Farm,  —  that  romantic  experiment 
in  equality  of  opportunity  whose  epitaph  Haw- 
thorne best  pronounced  when  he  said,  "More 
and  more  I  feel  we  at  Brook  Farm  struck  upon 
what  ought  to  be  a  truth !" 

M.  C.  C. 

65  Mt.  Vernon  Street,  Boston 
June,  1922 


FOREWORD 

WE  Americans  have  a  curious  habit  of 
dating  back  our  heroes  and  of  refusing 
the  stamp  of  authentic  valor  —  at  least 
in  our  histories  —  to  any  act  of  moral  or  physi- 
cal courage  which  has  happened  since  the 
Revolution.  John  Hancock  we  glibly  dub 
"  patriot,"  though  he  never  fought  at  all,  and 
in  many  ways  was  admittedly  a  man  of  pretty 
small  calibre.  It  seems  never  to  have  occurred 
to  those  in  charge  of  the  spiritual  sustenance 
of  our  youth  that,  beside  William  Lloyd  Garri- 
son, Hancock  shrinks  to  really  pitiful  pro- 
portions. Webster's  "  Bunker  Hill  Oration  " 
we  read,  to  be  sure,  but  the  emphasis  is  always 
put  upon  the  Bunker  Hill  rather  than  upon  the 
Webster.  And  I  never  heard  the  name  of 
Wendell  Phillips  pronounced  during  the  years 
in  which  I  prepared,  in  the  Boston  public 
schools,  for  college.  This  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  our  country  cannot  present  a  finer  example 
of  moral  heroism  than  Phillips  exemplifies; 
nor  has  any  orator  ever  given  to  the  world 


Vlll 


FOREWORD 


more  stirring  appeals  to  noble  action  than  did 
he.  Clear-sighted  foreigners  perceive  the  truth 
of  what  I  am  here  trying  to  say  —  and  in 
this  book  endeavor  to  prove.  Fredrika  Bremer 
observed  long  ago:  "  The  anti-slavery  struggle 
will  be  the  romance  of  American  history." 

But  the  youthful  enthusiasm  of  the  newly- 
made  city  expressed  itself  also  in  literature, 
in  art  and  in  experiments  with  life.  Steele 
said  of  a  certain  lady  that  to  have  known  and 
loved  her  was  a  liberal  education;  to  have 
shared  in  Boston's  life  and  loved  what  it  stood 
for  during  the  nineteenth  century  was  a  liberal 
education.  I  remember  once  to  have  felt  this 
with  a  pang  of  unmistakable  envy  at  a  dinner 
given  by  the  Boston  Authors'  Club  to  Mrs. 
Julia  Ward  Howe  and  Col.  Thomas  Went  worth 
Higginson,  president  and  vice-president  of  the 
club.  Norman  Hapgood,  Clyde  Fitch  and 
Owen  Wister,  all  of  whom  were  just  too  young 
to  have  shared  in  the  stirring  events  of  which 
Mrs.  Howe  and  Col.  Higginson  were  important 
parts,  referred  in  their  speeches  to  the  wonderful 
opportunities  those  two  had  enjoyed  from  the 
very  fact  of  living  when  and  where  they  did  — 
and  the  rest  of  us  younger  folk  feelingly  echoed 
these  sentiments.  For  though  the  twentieth 
century  will  have  its  opportunities,  also,  they 
will  not  be  so  akin  to  things  literary  as  were  the 
opportunities  of  the  nineteenth  century.    Willis 


FOREWORD  ix 

said  of  London  that  the  cultivated  American 
peculiarly  enjoys  the  place  because  he  there 
sees  whole  shelves  of  his  library  walking  about 
in  coats  and  gowns,  and  an  age  when,  as  Wister 
happily  put  it  at  that  dinner,  —  in  referring 
to  Mrs.  Howe  and  Higginson,  —  "a  lady  could 
turn  her  pen  into  a  sword  and  a  gentleman  his 
sword  into  a  pen  "  must  of  necessity  be  the 
Golden  Age  to  literary  workers. 

Yet  other  high  notes,  also,  were  struck  in 
the  nineteenth  century,  notes  upon  which  we 
of  the  twentieth  century  may  well  work  out 
a  life-symphony.  The  equality  of  woman,  about 
which  Margaret  Fuller  wrote  an  epoch-making 
book  and  for  which  Phillips  all  his  life  contended, 
we  have  yet  to  realize;  and  the  fulfilment  in 
some  measure  of  that  "  sweetest  dream  ever 
dreamed  in  America,"  the  Brook  Farm  experi- 
ment, —  of  which  Hawthorne  said  towards  the 
end  of  his  life  that  "  posterity  may  dig  it  up 
and  profit  by  it,"  —  remains.  Yes!  to  us, 
also,  are  given  wrongs  to  right  and  shackles 
to  strike  from  the  wrists  of  slaves.  It  is  my 
hope,  then,  that  this  book,  by  recalling  freshly 
the  heroes  of  the  nineteenth  century,  may  help 
to  hearten  heroes  for  the  twentieth. 

It  but  remains  to  speak  with  gratitude  of 
the  many  courtesies  and  quotation  privileges 
extended  to  me.  Most  of  these  are  acknowl- 
edged in  the  text,  but  I  wish  here  particularly 


x  FOREWORD 

to  express  my  appreciation  of  the  kindness  of 
the  Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  who  as  pub- 
lishers of  the  works  of  the  most  eminent  Ameri- 
can authors,  at  least  in  the  New  England  group, 
have  necessarily  been  often  appealed  to  and 
never  in  vain;  to  the  invaluable  Memorial  His- 
tory of  Boston;  to  Mr.  Francis  Jackson  Garrison, 
who  has  read  my  chapter  on  The  Anti-Slavery 
Movement  and  given  me  much-prized  help  in 
connection  with  it;  to  Mr.  John  Bouve  Clapp, 
who  placed  at  my  disposal  the  results  of  his 
research  in  connection  with  the  old  Boston 
Museum;  to  E.  P.  Dutton  and  Co.,  who 
brought  out  The  Recollections  of  an  Old  Musician; 
and  to  the  Lothrop,  Lee  and  Shepard  Company, 
publishers  of  Mrs.  Ednah  Dow  Cheney's  Remi- 
niscences and  of  Wendell  Phillips's  Orations. 

In  the  matter  of  illustrations  thanks  are 
further  due,  and  are  gladly  given,  to  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society,  to  the  Boston 
Athenaeum  and  to  the  Bostonian  Society  for 
permission  to  reproduce  certain  valuable  pic- 
tures in  their  possession;  also  to  Mr.  Frederick 
P.  Vinton,  the  artist,  a  number  of  whose  por- 
traits of  distinguished  Bostonians  are  here 
used,  and  to  Mr.  Louis  A.  Holman,  who  has 
again  given  me  the  benefit  of  his  keen  scent 
in  the  matter  of  appropriate  contemporary 
illustrations.  To  the  attendants  at  the  Boston 
Public  Library  and  to  Charles  Ejiowles  Bolton 


FOREWORD  xi 

of  the  Boston  Athenaeum  I  feel  deep  obliga- 
tion also.  How  greatly  do  such  courteous 
custodians  of  untold  treasures  lighten  an 
author's  labor! 

m.  c.  c. 
Arlington  Heights,  Massachusetts,  1910. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

Preface  to  the  Centenary  Edition         .        .  v 

Foreword vii 

I.    The  Moulding  of  a  City 1 

•II.    Brook  Farm:   An  Essay  in  Socialism      .        .  24 

HE.    The  Real  Zenobia 55 

IV.    When  the  Slave  Was  a  Hero  ....  83 

'V.    Wendell  Phillips:   Agitator    ....  150 

VI.    Theodore  Parker  and  His  Music  Hall  Pulpit  197 

VII.    Boston's  Share  in  the  Irrepressible  Conflict  233 

VIII.    The  Old  Boston  Theatres  and  Their  Stars  238 

-IX.    Some  Artists  and  Musicians  Who  Made  the 

City  Famous 281 

X.    Social  Queens  and  the  World  They  Ruled  .  306 

XI.    The   Old  Time  Hostelries  and  Their  Stages  325 

XH.    The  Great  Boston  Fire 354 

XIII.  Some  Famous  Visitors  and  the  Way  We  En- 

tertained Them 362 

XIV.  Boston  as  a  Literary  Centre  ....  382 
XV.    In  and  Out  of  Some  Old  Boston  Playhouses  404 

Index 433 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frances  Anna  Kemble Frontispiece 

From  the  painting  by  Thomas  Sully,  made 
in  1832,  in  the  possession  of  the  Boston 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 

Josiah  Quincy,  Second  Mayor  op  Boston   .    Facing  Page        8 

From  the  painting  by  Gilbert  Stuart  in  the 
Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 

View  of  Boston  prom  East  Boston,  in  1848        "         "  8 

Colonnade  Row,  which  stood  on  Tremont 

Street  South  op  West  Street       .        .        "  9 

Leonard  Vassall  House,  Summer  Street, 
on  the  site  now  occupied  by  Hovey's 
Store «         "  9 

House  op  William  Gray,  which  stood  on 
the  Corner  of  Summer  and  Kingston 
Streets "         "         12 

Old  Beacon  Hill    ..'....""         13 

From  a  contemporary  drawing  by  J.  R.  Smith. 

Harrison  Gray  Otis,  Third  Mayor  op  Bos- 
ton     "         "         13 

From  a  bust  by  Clevenger. 

Mrs.  Rebecca  Codman  Butterpield  when 

at  Brook  Farm "         "         26 

From  a  daguerreotype. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  in  1840     ...         "         "         26 

From  the  painting  by  Charles  Osgood. 

Brook  Farm  Buildings "         "         27 

After  a  contemporary  drawing. 

A  Piece  of  Brook  Farm  Scrip  Showing  Sig- 
nature op  Charles  A.  Dana,  Treas- 
urer .  "         "         27 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Charles  A.  Dana 

After  a  daguerreotype. 

Dr.  Orestes  A.  Brownson,  as  he  looked 
when  at  Brook  Farm      .... 

George  Ripley 

Father  Hecker  in  his  Prime 

From  a  rare  photograph  in  the  possession  of 
the  Paulist  Fathers,  New  York. 

South  Side  op  Temple  Place,  about  1865  . 
Boston  from  the  State  House,  about  1858 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli       .... 

From  a  daguerreotype 

Elizabeth  Peabodt  .... 

From  a  portrait  in  the  possession  of  the  Eliza- 
beth Peabody  House,  Boston. 

Harriet  Martineau 

Masonic  Temple,  as  it  looked  when  at  cor- 
ner of  Tremont  Street  and  Temple 
Place         

The  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Headings 
of  the  Liberator;  the  first  heading 
was  plain  lettering        .... 

Church  Green 

Joy  Street  Church,  where  the  New  Eng- 
land Anti-Slavery  Society  was  Organ- 
ized     ' 

Drx  Place,  Showing  the  Home  of  William 
Lloyd  Garrison 

Old  State  House,  where  Garrison  was 
Mobbed 

Tremont  Street,  South  of  School  Street, 
about  1850 

Dorothea  Lynde  Dix 

From  a  daguerreotype  taken  in  1858. 

Mrs.  William  Lloyd  Garrison 

From  a  daguerreotype  taken  about  1852. 

Maria  Weston  Chapman        .... 

William  Lloyd  Garrison  and  Wendell 
Phillips 

From  a  photograph. 


Facing  Page      42 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xvii 

Boston's    first    Holy    Cross     Cathedral, 

Channing's  Church  in  Background      .    Facing  Page    131 

William  Ellery  Channing    ....         "         "131 

The    Home    op    Wendell    Phillips,    which 

stood  at  26  Essex  Street      .".."■"       162 

Mr.  Phillips  is  shown  just  entering  the  door. 

Wendell  Phillips'  Study       ....""       162 

From  a  photograph. 

Frank  Sanborn "         "       163 

From  an  early  photograph. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson "         "       163 

After  the  Hawes  portrait. 

Daniel  Webster's  House,  which  stood  on 
the  Corner  of  Summer  and  High 
Streets "         "       178 

Daniel  Webster      ......         "         "       178 

From  a  daguerreotype  made  by  Richards,  of 
Philadelphia,  about  1850. 

Charles  Sumner "         "       179 

Dr.  Samuel  A.  Green "         "       179 

From  a  painting  by  Frederic  Vinton,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Groton  Library. 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe        ....         "         "       190 

From   the    drawing   by   George    Richmond, 
London,  1853. 

Mary  A.  Livermore "         "       190 

Lucy  Stone      . "         "190 

A    Procession    in    Nineteenth    Century 

Court  Street "       191 

Theodore  Parker "         UA      202 

From  a  daguerreotype. 

Theodore  Parker's  Church  in  West  Rox- 

bury "         "       202 

Corner  of  Tremont  and  Bromfield  Streets, 

about  1870 "         "203 

Old  Boston  Music    Hall,  where    Parker 

Preached .         "         "       216 

The  City  Hall  of  Parker's  Day  "         "       216 


xviii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Washington  Street,  South  of  Milk  Street 

in  1858 Facing  Page    217 

Governor  John  A.  Andrew   .        .        .        .         "         "       234 

From  the  painting  by  William  Morris  Hunt, 
in  the  possession  of  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society. 

Colonel  Robert  Gould  Shaw       ..."         "       234 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  1862. 

Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  aet.  20      .         "         "       235 

From  a  crayon  drawing  by  Eastman  Johnson. 

Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  as  Colonel 
of  the  First  South  Carolina  Volun- 
teers    "       235 

Fanny  Ellsler "         "244 

From  a  drawing  by  W.  K.  Hewitt. 

Lorenzo  Papanti "         "       244 

From  a  painting  in  the  possession  of  The 
Bostonian  Society. 

Park  Square,  1870 "  "245 

Park  Square,  1880 "  "245 

Green  Room  of  the  Boston  Museum  .        .  "  "       260 

Foyer  of  the  Boston  Museum  "  "       260 

Mrs.  Vincent "  "       261 

William  Warren "  "261 

From  the  painting  by  Frederic  Vinton,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine 

Arts. 

Henry  Clay  Barnabee "         "274 

Charlotte  Cushman "         "       274 

Coliseum  in  which  the  Peace  Jubilee  of 

1869  was  Held "         "275 

FiTCHBURG  Station,  in  the  Hall  of  which 
Jenny  Lind  Gave  her  Final  Boston 
Concert "         "       275 

William  Morris  Hunt "        "       284 

From  a  painting  by  himself,  in  the  possession 
of  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 

Washington  Allston "        "       284 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xix 

Ole  Bull  on  his  First  Visit  to  America    .    Facing  Page    285 

From  a  drawing  by  F.  O.  C.  Darley. 

Jenny  Lind "  "285 

Carl  and  Parepa  Rosa "  "296 

Camilla  Urso "  "296 

Adelaide  Phillips "  "       296 

Carl  Zerrahn  as  Director  op  the  Peace 

Jubilee "         "297 

Annie  Louise  Cart "         «       297 

Mrs.  Harrison  Gray  Otis     ....""       314 

From  the  painting  by  G.  P.  A.  Healy,  in  the 
possession  of  The  Bostonian  Society. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe "         "       315 

From  the  bust  by  Clevenger,  in  the  possession 
of  the  Howe  family. 

Parlor  at  13  Chestnut  Street  in  which  the 

Radical  Club  Met "         "320 

Mrs.  John  T.  Sargent,  Leading  Spirit  op 

the  Radical  Club •    "         "       320 

From  a  photograph  in  the  possession  of 
Franklin  Haven  Sargent,  New  York. 

Old  Elm,  Boston  Common  "         "       321 

The  Back  Bay  prom  the  Public  Garden, 

1860 "         "321 

Thomas  Gold  Appleton,  the  Famous  Boston 

Wit "         "332 

From  the  painting  by  Frederic  Vinton,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts. 

Old  Franklin  Street,  showing  the  Rooms 
op  the  "Boston  Library"  over  the 
Arch  on  the  Right  ....""       332 

Brompield  House,  about  1860  "         "       333 

Old  Bowdoin  Square,   showing  an  Early 

Home  of  Francis  Parkman     .        .        .        "         "       342 

Train  used  in  1835  on  First  Trip  over  Bos- 
ton and  Lowell  Road  "         "       342 

Fort  Hill  Square  in  1858  "         "       342 


xx  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Old   Reservoir,   where   the   State   House 

Extension  now  Stands    ....     Facing  Page    343 

The  Revere  House,  recently  torn  down  .         "         "       350 

Tremont  House,  1870 " 

Holmes'  "The  Long  Path,"  Boston  Com- 
mon. From  the  corner  op  Joy  and 
Beacon  Streets  to  Boylston  Street    .         " 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  in  the  Study  of 

his  Beacon  Street  Home        .        .        .         " 

Old  Trinity  Church  after  the  Boston  Fire         " 

Another  View  of  the  Fire  Ruins 

Old  Trinity  Church,  Summer  Street,  about 
1870 

Phillips  Brooks,  aet.  21        .        .        .        .         " 

From  an  ambrotype. 

Renfrew  Ball  in  the  Boston  Theatre       .         " 

Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery  Drill- 
ing on  Brattle  Street  in  1858      .        .         " 

The  Late  Edward  VII  as  he  Looked  when 

Visiting  Boston  in  1860 ....         " 

From  a  photograph  made  by  command  of 
Queen  Victoria  just  before  the  Prince 
sailed  for  America. 

Mrs.  Anne  Gilchrist " 

From  the  painting  by  her  son,  Herbert  Har- 
lakenden  Gilchrist. 

Delia  Bacon " 

From  a  daguerreotype  taken  in  May,  1853. 

The  First  Old  Corner  Bookstore,  Wash- 
ington and  School  Streets    .        .        .         " 

James  T.  Fields " 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich's  Home  at  Ponkapog        " 

Thomas   Bailey   Aldrich's   Study,    59   Mt. 

Vernon  Street " 

Old  Boston  Custom  House  in  which  Haw- 
thorne Served  as  a  Young  Man  .,         .         " 

William  Smith  Shaw,   First  Librarian  of 

the  Boston  Athenaeum  ....         " 

From  the  painting  by  Gilbert  Stuart,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xxi 


icin 

g  Page    390 

it 

"       391 

u 

"       391 

James  Perkins,  who  gave  to  the  Athenaeum 
its  Early  Home  on  Pearl  Street 

Old  Reading  Room  of  the  Boston  Athe- 
naeum, Beacon  Street    .... 

Exterior  op  Athenaeum  Today    . 

Bates  Hall  Reading  Room  in  the  Old  Bos- 
ton Public  Library  .        .         .        .         "         "       398 

Charles    Coffin    Jewett,    First    Superin- 
tendent op  the  Boston  Public  Library        "         "       398 

John  Boyle  O'Reilly "         "399 

From  a  photograph  by  Chickering  in  the  pos- 
session of  Miss  Mary  Boyle  O'Reilly. 

Archbishop  Williams "         "       399 

From  a  painting  by  Frederic  Vinton. 

Howard  Athenaeum  about  1865  "  "       410 

Old   National  Theatre,   Portland  Street  "  "       410 

Lobby  op  the  old  Globe  Theatre  .        .  "  "411 

Foyer  op  the  Boston  Theatre     .  .        .  "  "411 


ROMANTIC  DAYS  IN 
OLD  BOSTON 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    MOULDING    OF    A    CITY 

IT  was  a  very  charming,  comfortable  old 
town  —  this  Boston  of  uncrowded  shops 
and  untroubled  self-respect  which,  in  1822, 
reluctantly  allowed  itself  to  be  made  into  a 
city.  For  not  lightly  nor  impetuously  was  the 
old  plan  of  town  government  abandoned. 
Though  the  venerable  John  Adams,  "  the  man 
of  the  town  meeting,"  had  generously  set  aside 
his  own  personal  predilections  and  had  cast  a 
ballot  (in  1820)  for  an  amendment  to  the  State 
Constitution  that  should  enable  freemen  in 
large  municipalities  to  delegate  to  represent- 
atives "  the  privileges  of  voting  supplies," 
many  there  were  —  Josiah  Quincy  among  them 
—  who  so  firmly  believed  that  the  town-meeting 
form  was  peculiarly  suited  to  the  character  of 
the  people  of  New  England  that  they  resisted 


2  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

with  all  the  power  they  possessed  the  impending 
change. 

Yet  the  time  for  this  change  had  certainly- 
come.  Quincy  himself,  in  his  Municipal  History 
of  The  Town  and  City  of  Boston  (written  after  the 
struggle  had  long  been  ended),  amply  justifies 
the  step:  "When  a  town-meeting,"  he  says, 
"  was  held  on  any  exciting  subject  in  Faneuil 
Hall  those  only  who  obtained  places  near  the 
moderator  could  even  hear  the  discussion.  A  few 
busy  or  interested  individuals  easily  obtained  the 
management  of  the  most  important  affairs  in  an 
assembly  in  which  the  greater  number  could 
have  neither  voice  nor  hearing.  When  the 
subject  was  not  generally  exciting  town-meet- 
ings were  usually  composed  of  the  selectmen, 
the  town  officers  and  thirty  or  forty  inhabitants. 
Those  who  thus  came  were,  for  the  most  part, 
drawn  to  it  from  some  official  duty  or  private 
interest,  which  when  performed  or  attained, 
they  generally  troubled  themselves  but  little 
or  not  at  all  about  the  other  business  of  the 
meeting.  In  assemblies  thus  composed,  by- 
laws were  passed,  taxes  to  the  amount  of  one 
hundred  or  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  voted  on  statements  often  general  in 
their  nature,  and  on  reports,  as  it  respects  the 
majority  of  voters  present,  taken  upon  trust, 
and  which  no  one  had  carefully  considered 
except,  perhaps,  the  chairman." 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  3 

None  the  less,  when  the  subject  of  adopting  a 
city  charter  was  brought  before  a  "  special 
meeting  of  the  inhabitants  "  (in  January,  1822), 
the  vote  on  the  test  proposition  "  that  the  name 
of  '  Town  of  Boston  '  should  be  changed  to 
'  City  of  Boston'"  was  very  close  —  only  two 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  twenty-seven  in 
the  affirmative  against  two  thousand  and  eighty- 
seven  in  the  negative.  The  number  of  qualified 
voters  at  this  time  was  between  seven  and  eight 
thousand,  about  one-sixth  of  the  total  popu- 
lation, which,  according  to  the  national  census 
of  1820,  was  forty-three  thousand  two  hundred 
and  ninety-eight. 

It  is  interesting  just  here  to  observe  how 
slowly  Boston  had  increased  in  population 
during  the  past  thirty  years  and  to  contrast 
this  with  its  increase  after  the  city  charter  was 
taken  out.  In  1790  the  population  of  the  town, 
including  the  people  settled  on  the  islands  in 
the  harbor,  was  18,320.  From  1790  to  1800 
the  increase  was  6,617  or  36.11%;  from  1800 
to  1810,  the  increase  was  8,850  or  35.48%; 
from  1810  to  1820  the  increase  was  9,511  or 
28.14%.  During  the  decade  marked  by  the 
change  in  the  form  of  government,  however, 
the  increase  was  nearly  double  that  of  the  ten 
years  preceding. 

Happily,  there  was  now  beginning  to  be  room 
for  an  increased  population.     Nathaniel  Inger- 


4  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

soil  Bowditch,  who  in  his  Gleaner  papers 
characterizes  Mr.  Uriah  Cotting  as  the  "  Chief 
Benefactor  of  Boston,"  appears  to  have  been 
well  within  the  facts  of  the  case.  For  Mr. 
Cotting,  as  the  projector  of  the  Roxbury  Mill 
Corporation  by  whose  "  gigantic  enterprise " 
the  Mill  Dam  was  built,  really  made  it  possible 
for  Boston  to  grow.  This  undertaking  drew 
in  its  train  a  series  of  constructions  by  which 
alone  the  town  has  been  enabled  to  become  a 
great  city. 

The  charter  which  led  to  this  complete  change 
in  the  town's  physical  conformation  was  passed 
in  1814.  In  the  early  summer  of  1821  the  Mill 
Dam  was  finished  and  opened  for  travel. 
Upon  the  granting  of  the  charter  the  Daily 
Advertiser  printed  a  communication  signed 
"  Beacon  Street "  which  began  as  follows: 
"  Citizens  of  Boston!  Have  you  ever  visited 
the  Mall;  have  you  ever  inhaled  the  Western 
breeze,  fragrant  with  perfume,  refreshing  every 
sense  and  invigorating  every  nerve?  What 
think  you  of  converting  the  beautiful  sheet  of 
water  which  skirts  the  Common  into  an  empty 
mud-basin,  reeking  with  filth,  abhorrent  to 
the  smell,  and  disgusting  to  the  eye?  By 
every  god  of  sea,  lake  or  fountain  it  is  in- 
credible!" By  1821,  however,  the  same  paper 
is  printing  the  following  praise  of  this  very 
project:  "The  road  over  the  Boston  and  Rox- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  5 

bury  Mill-Dam  was  opened  for  passengers  for 
the  first  time  yesterday  morning  when  a  caval- 
cade of  one  hundred  citizens  and  upwards, 
headed  by  General  Sumner  and  Major  Dean, 
passed  over.  .  .  .  General  Sumner  in  a  per- 
tinent address  took  occasion  to  advert  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  undertaking  the  completion 
of  which  they  were  met  to  celebrate.  .  .  .  He 
reverted  to  the  position  of  Boston  thirty-four 
years  ago  when  there  was  only  one  passage 
from  the  peninsula  to  the  main.  '  It  was  then,' 
he  said,  '  our  town  resembled  a  hand  but  it  was 
a  closed  one.  It  is  now  open  and  well  spread. 
Charlestown,  Cambridge,  South  Boston  and 
Craigie's  Bridges  have  added  each  a  finger, 
and  lately  our  enterprising  citizens  have  joined 
the  firm  and  substantial  thumb  over  which  we 
now  ride." 

Thus  it  was  quite  a  sizable  territory  over 
which  John  Phillips  was  elected  mayor  in  1822. 
Phillips  had  already  served  Boston  as  public 
prosecutor,  as  a  member  of  the  House  and 
Senate  of  Massachusetts  and  as  judge  of  the 
Court  of  Common  Pleas.  But  it  was  to  his 
charm  of  manner  and  to  his  "  pliable  disposi- 
tion "  rather  than  to  his  previous  public  serv- 
ices that  he  owed  his  election  as  first  mayor 
of  Boston.  For  Harrison  Gray  Otis  and  Josiah 
Quincy  had  both  been  in  the  lists  with  him 
and  had  only  withdrawn  their  names  because 


6  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

of  the  nomination,  at  the  last  moment,  of  a 
third  candidate,  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  the 
presence  of  whose  name  on  the  ticket  had  made 
it  impossible  for  either  of  them  to  carry  the 
"  majority  of  all  votes  "  necessary  for  a  choice. 
Phillips,  therefore,  came  in  as  a  compromise 
candidate;  but  he  offended  so  few  people 
that  he  would  undoubtedly  have  been  speedily 
re-elected,  upon  the  expiration  of  his  term,  had 
not  ill  health  made  him  refuse  to  run  again. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  real  task  of  "  moulding 
the  city  "  fell  rather  to  the  second  mayor  than 
to  the  first.  Josiah  Quincy,  who  was  elected 
when  Mayor  Phillips  retired,  has  left  such  an 
impress  upon  the  government  of  Boston  that 
he  is  generally  called  the  city's  great  mayor. 
One  reason  for  this  is  that  he  did  many  things 
during  his  six  years  of  office.  Another  is  that 
he  had  the  chance  and  the  ability  to  let  pos- 
terity know  about  his  activities.  For  it  rarely 
happens  that  a  mayor  has  so  good  an  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  just  what  was  accomplished  during 
his  administration  as  Mr.  Quincy  made  and 
improved  when  he  published  in  1852  his  Mu- 
nicipal History  of  The  Town  And  City  of  Bos- 
ton. More  than  three-quarters  of  this  book 
are  devoted  to  an  account  of  what  was  done 
during  the  six  years  when  its  author  was  mayor! 
But  one  should  have  no  quarrel  with  the  book  or 
with  its  hero  on  that  account.     So  many  and 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  7 

such  important  things  were  done.  In  Mayor 
Quincy  there  was  no  over-cautious  and  timid 
reference  to  public  opinion  with  its  attendant 
shrinking  from  responsibility.  He  found  many 
reforms  needed  and  he  manfully  set  himself 
to  bring  them  about.  Street  begging  was  almost 
entirely  suppressed  during  his  time,  admirable 
measures  for  the  relief  and  care  of  the  poor 
were  introduced,  a  new  market-house  (Quincy 
Market)  was  erected  and  the  city  was  so 
effectually  cleansed  that  a  striking  alteration 
was  observable  in  the  mortality  reports.  Where 
one  in  forty-two  had  died  during  the  ten  years 
before  1823,  during  the  last  three  years  of 
Mr.  Quincy's  administration  the  mortality  was 
but  one  in  fifty-seven!  It  has  indeed  passed 
almost  into  a  proverb  that  Boston  had  never 
had  clean  streets  before  this  time,  —  and  has 
never  had  them  since.  Moreover,  this  energetic 
mayor  reorganized  the  fire  department  and  the 
police  guardians,  thus  making  the  city  a  safe 
and  a  peaceful  place  of  residence.  So  orderly 
was  the  conduct  of  the  citizens  that  twenty- 
four  constables  and  eighty  watchmen  (of  whom 
never  more  than  eighteen  were  out  at  a 
time)  were  enough  to  make  everybody  in 
Boston  quite  at  ease  concerning  their  lives  and 
property.  It  is  Mayor  Quincy,  also,  that  we 
must  thank  for  planting  the  splendid  trees  on 
the  Charles  street  mall  of  the  Common;    and 


8  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

it  was  during  his  administration  (in  1824)  that 
the  Public  Garden  was  created  by  Samuel  E. 
Guild  on  what  had  been  an  unsightly  beach  of 
salt  mud  on  the  western  side  of  Charles  Street. 
As  Chairman  of  the  School  Committee,  how- 
ever, Mayor  Quincy  took  a  stand  which  has 
caused  him  to  be  greatly  criticized  by  women 
writers.  Up  to  1825  there  had  been  very  scanty 
provision  in  Boston  for  the  education  of  girls 
at  the  public  expense,  and  this  discrimination 
against  women  led  Rev.  John  Pierpont,  then 
Secretary  of  the  School  Committee,  to  propose 
the  establishment  in  the  city  of  a  High  School 
for  Girls.  He  gave  as  his  reason  for  doing  this 
"  general  expediency  and  to  make  an  object  of 
ambition  and  profitable  employment  for  three 
years  of  life  now  inadequately  occupied."  The 
resulting  school  was  such  a  success  that  Mayor 
Quincy  voted  its  —  abandonment.  Though 
the  cost  for  each  pupil  was  only  eleven  dollars 
a  year,  Mr.  Quincy  seems  to  have  felt  that,  in 
too  many  cases,  this  appropriation  would  be 
employed  for  the  education  of  wealthy  girls 
whose  parents  could  send  them  to  private 
schools,  and  would  if  there  were  no  public 
high  school.  "  The  standard  of  public  educa- 
tion," he  said,  "  should  be  raised  to  the  greatest 
desirable  and  practicable  height;  but  it  should 
be  effected  by  raising  the  standard  of  the  com- 
mon schools."     Boston,  it  is  thus  clear,  was 


JOSIAH    QUINCY,    SECOND    MAYOR    OF    BOSTON. 

From  the  painting  by  Gilbert  Stuart  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine 

Arts. 


VIEW    OF    BOSTON    FROM    EAST    BOSTON   IN    1848. 


COLONNADE    ROW,    WHICH    STOOD    ON    TREMONT    STREET 
SOUTH    OF    WEST    STREET,    OPPOSITE    THE    COMMON. 


LEONARD    VASSALL    HOUSE,    SUMMER    STREET,    ON    THE 
SITE    NOW    OCCUPIED   BY    HOVEY's    STORE. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  9 

by  no  means  ready  yet  to  provide  higher 
education  for  the  poorer  classes.  There  was 
a  great  hue  and  cry  because  many  young  Irish 
girls,  who  had  entered  the  High  School  and 
proved  to  be  fine  scholars,  were  unwilling, 
after  enjoying  this  taste  of  culture,  to  become 
domestic  servants.  Public  opinion  was  very 
strong  on  this  issue.  For  the  first  time,  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  that  anti-Irish-Catholic 
feeling  which  culminated  in  the  burning  of  the 
Ursuline  Convent  in  1834. 

During  Mr.  Quincy's  second  term  he  had  the 
honor  of  receiving  and  entertaining  General 
Lafayette,  who  was  made  the  guest  of  the  city 
and  was  sumptuously  entertained  in  the  build- 
ing at  the  corner  of  Park  and  Beacon  Streets, 
later  known  as  the  home  of  George  Ticknor. 
I  have  elsewhere 1  described  in  detail  the  events 
of  this  visit  of  Washington's  friend;  suffice 
it  here,  therefore,  merely  to  say  that  the  General 
was  escorted  (Tuesday,  August  22,  1824)  to  the 
city  limits  from  Roxbury  by  Governor  Eustis 
and  by  him  presented  to  Mayor  Quincy,  with 
whom  he  proceeded  through  streets  resplendent 
with  the  French  and  American  flags  and  spanned 
at  intervals  with  arches  bearing  diverse  patriotic 
mottoes  and  inscriptions  giving  glad  Welcome 
to  Lafayette. 

One  incident  which  took  place  as  the  pro- 

1  Among  Old  New  England  Inns,  p.  356  et  seq. 


10  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

cession  moved  up  Tremont  Street  towards 
Boylston  is  too  picturesque  not  to  be  told  here 
once  again.  Amid  the  throngs  of  people  who 
crowded  the  windows  and  steps  of  the  houses 
on  Colonnade  Row  the  keen-eyed  old  soldier 
perceived,  on  a  balcony,  the  face  of  Madame 
Scott,  whom  he  had  known  well  as  the  wife  of 
pompous  Governor  Hancock.  She  had  been  his 
hostess  away  back  in  1781  in  the  elegant  Han- 
cock mansion  on  Beacon  Street,  and  though 
Time  had  wrought  many  changes  in  her  piquant 
face  and  figure,  he  instantly  recognized  her  and, 
with  the  inborn  courtesy  of  a  Frenchman, 
directed  his  conveyance  to  stop  in  front  of  the 
place  where  she  sat,  and  rising,  with  his  hand 
placed  over  his  heart,  made  a  graceful  obeisance 
which  was  gracefully  returned.  Then  the  old 
lady  burst  into  tears  and  exclaimed,  "  I  have 
lived  long  enough." 

Another  charming  feature  of  the  festival  was 
the  singing  of  the  Marseillaise  by  a  throng  of 
schoolchildren  on  the  Common,  of  whom  Wen- 
dell Phillips,  then  a  fourteen  year  old  lad,  was  one. 

The  original  letter  in  which  Lafayette  an- 
nounced his  intended  visit  to  Boston  may  be 
found  in  the  manuscript  collection  of  the  Boston 
Public  Library.    It  reads: 

Albany,  June  12,  1825. 
My  Dear  Sir  :  —  Thus  far  I  am  come  to  redeem  my 
sacred  and  most  cordial  pledge:    We  shall  reach  Boston 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  11 

on  the  fifteenth :  I  will  tell  you  between  us  that  I  have 
been  informed  the  legislature  intend  to  receive  the  tribute 
of  my  personal  respects  in  which  case  it  becomes  proper 
for  me  to  be  arrived  two  days  before  the  Bunker  Hill 
Ceremony.  As  to  what  I  am  to  do  I  cannot  do  better 
than  to  refer  myself  to  your  friendly  advices  and  shall 
happily  offer  you  and  family  my  most  affectionate  grateful 
respects.  Lafayette. 

I  would  have  been  very  happy  to  celebrate  with  you1 
the  Fourth  of  July,  but  am  obliged  to  set  out  on  the 
twentieth  to  visit  the  States  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire 
and  Vermont  and  will  proceed  down  the  north  river  to 
New  York,  then  to  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Washington 
and  the  seat  of  the  [manuscript  illegible]  Virginia  expedi- 
tion so  as  to  embark  on  the  fifteenth  August. 

Mr.  Quincy,  Mayor  of  Boston. 

On  the  day  before  his  departure  from  Boston 
the  general  dined  in  a  marquee  on  the  Common 
with  twelve  hundred  people,  probably  the 
largest  number  ever  seated  at  a  single  dinner 
table  in  New  England.  On  a  previous  day  a 
dinner  of  ceremony  was  given  him  at  the 
Exchange  Coffee  House  on  State  and  Congress 
Streets,  not  the  magnificent  building  erected 
by  Charles  Bulfinch  in  1808,  but  the  less  pre- 
tentious structure  put  up  on  the  same  site 
when  that  stately  edifice  had  burned.  Among 
the  toasts  on  this  occasion  was  the  following 

1  Mr.  Quincy's  house  at  this  time  was  on  Hamilton  Place,  num- 
ber 1. 


12  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

offered  by  General  Lafayette:  "The  City  of 
Boston,  the  Cradle  of  Liberty.  May  Faneuil 
Hall  ever  stand  a  monument  to  teach  the  world 
that  resistance  to  oppression  is  a  duty,  and 
will,  under  true  republican  institutions,  become 
a  blessing." 

The  simple  social  traditions  of  a  community 
as  yet  uncomplicated  either  by  a  large  foreign 
population  or  by  divisive  questions  such  as  the 
anti-slavery  conflict  was  soon  to  introduce  is 
reflected  in  the  accounts  of  this  entertainment 
of  Lafayette.  Boston  at  this  period  was  a 
veritable  garden  city  and  Summer  Street  was  a 
delightful  avenue  which  well  merited  its  name. 
Here  earlier  in  the  century  had  been  the  resi- 
dences of  Joseph  Barrell,  Benjamin  Bussey  and 
Governor  James  Sullivan,  whose  house  at  this 
time  belonged  to  William  R.  Gray.  Nathaniel 
Goddard,  Henry  Hill  and  David  Ellis  were 
among  his  neighbors. 

Other  famous  old  gardens  on  Summer  Street 
and  in  its  vicinity  had  been  those  of  Edmund 
Quincy,  which  ran  back  to  Bedford  Street;  and 
Judge  Jackson's  on  the  corner  of  Bedford  and 
Chauncy  Streets.  Magnificent  trees  skirted  the 
entire  length  of  the  street,  overarching  the 
driveway  with  interlacing  branches  so  that  one 
walked  or  rode  as  within  a  grove  in  a  light 
softened  by  a  leafy  screen.  Here,  at  the  inter- 
section of  Bedford  and   Summer  Streets  was 


HOUSE    OF    WILLIAM    GHAY,    WHICH    STOOD    ON    THE    CORNER    OF 
SUMMER    AND    KINGSTON    STREETS. 


OLD    BEACON    HILL. 

From  a  contemporary  dra  icing  by  J.  B.  Smith. 


HAHRISON    GRAY    OTIS,    THIRD 
MAYOR    OF    BOSTON. 

From  a  bust  by  Clevenger 


IN   OLD   BOSTON  13 

Church  Green  set  off  by  an  edifice  (erected  in 
1814)  of  Bulfinch  design  whose  spire  towered  to 
a  height  of  one  hundred  and  ninety  feet  from 
the  foundation.  "  As  late  as  1815,"  declares 
Drake,  "  there  was  a  pasture  of  two  acres  in 
Summer  Street,  and  the  tinkling  of  cowbells 
was  by  no  means  an  unusual  sound  there. 
The  hospitable  residents  could  set  before  their 
guests  cider  of  their  own  manufacture  or  butter 
from  their  own  dairies."  One  very  beautiful 
old  place  which  belongs  in  this  category  was  that 
(on  the  site  now  covered  by  Hovey's  store) 
long  known  as  the  Vassall  House  and  occupied 
later  by  the  family  of  Frederick  Geyer.  At 
the  wedding  here  of  Nancy  W.  Geyer,  who 
married  Rufus  G.  Amory  (in  1794),  the  Duke  of 
Kent,  son  of  George  III.  and  father  of  the  late 
Queen  Victoria,  was  present  as  a  guest.1 

Harrison  Gray  Otis  succeeded  Mr.  Quincy  as 
mayor  in  1829.  An  authentic  picture  of  the 
social  life  of  Boston  during  his  administration 
is  derived  from  the  Boston  correspondence 
published  in  the  New  York  Mirror,  where, 
under  date  of  April,  1831,  the  writer,  who 
appears  to  have  been  pining  for  the  freer 
ether  of  New  York,  laments  the  lack  of  public 
places  of  amusement  in  Boston.  To  be  sure, 
he  admits,  "  the  gallery  of  the  Athenaeum 
exhibition  of  paintings  is  crowded  with  beauty 

1  Drake. 


14  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

a  week  or  two  in  the  summer;  and  our  prom- 
enade place,  Washington  Street,  for  a  couple  of 
hours  every  fair  day  is  very  proper  for  loungers 
and  ladies.  There  are,  too,  occasional  concerts 
during  the  winter  that  attract  genteel  audiences, 
and  once  in  a  twelvemonth  some  distinguished 
singer  or  tragedian  may  fill  the  boxes  of  the 
theatre. 

"  But  this  absence  of  public  amusements," 
concedes  the  correspondent,  "  is  accounted  for 
and  in  some  measure  compensated  by  the  nature 
of  our  private  society  and  the  number  of  balls, 
parties  and  lectures  which  comfortably  occupy 
the  whole  compass  of  the  week."  It  was  a  very 
lavish  hospitality,  too,  which  was  exercised  in 
these  Boston  homes.  That  trade  with  the 
East  which  was  to  bring  wealth  to  so  many 
families  of  the  new  city  had  now  been  estab- 
lished for  some  years,  and  quaint  silken  hangings, 
porcelain,  jade  and  carvings,  treasures  of  teak- 
wood  and  bronze  from  Canton  and  Hong  Kong 
formed  the  effective  background  of  elegant 
receptions  and  sumptuous  feasts. 

The  first  American  to  reach  China  after  the 
Revolution  was  Major  Samuel  Shaw  of  Boston, 
whose  romantic  career  I  traced  somewhat  in  the 
book  preceding  this.1  His  post  was  that  of 
supercargo,  —  one  whose  duty  it  was  to  sell  the 
outward  cargo  and  buy  another   to   be  taken 

1  See  Old  Boston  Days  and  Ways. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  15 

back,  —  and  his  name  belongs  at  the  head  of 
the  long  list  of  men,  chiefly  from  Boston,  who, 
in  this  capacity,  did  honor  to  their  native  town 
and  made  fortunes  for  their  descendants.  A 
very  famous  house  of  this  kind,  which  dates 
from  January  1, 1824,  was  that  known  as  Russell 
and  Company,  one  early  member  of  which  was 
John  Murray  Forbes,  in  whose  Personal  Remi- 
niscences may  be  found  a  fund  of  romantic 
material  concerning  the  life  and  labors  in 
China  of  many  an  enterprising  young  Bos- 
tonian.  India  Wharf,  designed  in  1808,  by 
Charles  Bulfinch,  was  the  Boston  headquarters 
of  Russell  and  Company,  and  so  important  was 
the  trade  there  conducted  that  in  1844,  when 
the  harbor  froze  over  from  the  wharves  to 
Boston  Light  and  a  channel  was  cut  through 
the  ice  at  an  expense  of  thousands  of  dollars, 
to  open  the  water  from  the  Cunard  Dock  at 
East  Boston,  a  connecting  branch  of  it  was 
extended  to  India  Wharf  for  the  benefit  of  the 
ships  operated  by  the  India  Wharf  Proprietors. 
From  first  to  last  there  were  forty-eight  mem- 
bers in  the  firm  of  Russell  and  Company,  and 
when  account  is  taken  of  the  fact  that  these 
men  not  only  lived  in  China  a  portion  of  the 
time  but  also  on  some  occasions  had  their  wives 
and  daughters  there  for  short  visits,  it  will  be 
seen  that  no  formative  influence  was  of  greater 
importance   to   Boston   than   the   organization 


16  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

of  this  wealthy  and  highly  successful  firm. 
There  were  many  Bostonians,  before  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  who  could  talk  of 
the  East  as  intelligently  as  Kipling  does  now 
and  could  echo  feelingly  Mr.  Forbes'  verses, 
beginning 

"  Know  ye  the  land  where  the  bamboo  and  queue  are  —  " 

and  ending 

"  Where  the  flowers  have  no  smell  and  no  flavor  the 
fruit, 
And  'tis  stupid  to  talk  and  there's  nothing  to  shoot; 

Where  the  earth  is  burnt  mud  and  the  sky  is  all  blaze, 
Where  the  dew  is  death-fog  and  the  air  is  red  haze? 

Tis  the  land  of  the  East;   'tis  the  region  of  curry 
That  slowly  we  come  to  and  leave  in  a  hurry. 

Know  ye  the  land?    My  good  friend,  if  you  do, 
By  the  Lord,  I  don't  envy  you;  I  know  it  too!  " 

Though  Harrison  Gray  Otis  was  one  of  the 
India  Wharf  Proprietors,  he  was  never  a  member 
of  the  firm  of  Russell  and  Company.  He  seems 
indeed  to  have  ceased  active  efforts  to  accumu- 
late wealth,  some  time  before  this  firm  was 
organized,  and  his  name  was  now  hedged  about 
almost  with  divinity.  For  instance,  on  the 
day  fixed  for  the  organization  of  the  city  gov- 
ernment of  1830  he  sent  word  that  he  was 
ill  and  invited  the  members  of  the  city  council 
to  assemble  at  his  private  residence,  45  Beacon 
Street,  for  the  purpose  of  being  qualified  for 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  17 

office.  Though  this  was  quite  unprecedented, 
no  one  thought  of  questioning  the  propriety 
of  holding  a  municipal  inauguration  in  such  a 
place;  an  invitation  from  an  Otis  was  equal  to 
a  command.  It  is  altogether  likely,  too,  that 
the  city  fathers  greatly  enjoyed  themselves  on 
this  occasion,  for  Otis  was  a  charming  enter- 
tainer and  his  fine  old  mansion  house  with  its 
three  beautiful  rooms  en  suite  and  decorated 
with  pictures  by  Copley,  Blackburn  and  Smi- 
bert  were  of  the  sort  not  accessible  to  all  the 
men  in  the  city  government.  Samuel  Breck 
hazards  the  guess  that  at  this  time  Otis  was 
spending  about  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year 
upon  the  conduct  of  his  household,  though 
he  adds  that  twenty-five  years  earlier  "  he  told 
me  that  the  utmost  extent  of  his  desires  as  to 
riches  was  to  be  worth  ten  thousand  dollars." 
The  universal  opinion  seems  to  have  been  that 
the  first  Harrison  Gray  Otis  was  unsurpassed 
in  dress,  equipage,  entertainment  and  manners. 
"  He  always  reminded  me,"  says  Augustus  T. 
Perkins,  who  wrote  his  biographical  memoir, 
"  of  a  fine  old  French  nobleman,  one  of  those 
we  read  of  as  uniting  wit  with  learning  and 
great  eloquence  with  profound  acquirements." 
Associated  with  Harrison  Gray  Otis  in  the 
social  chronicles  of  the  time  is  the  name  of 
Emily  Marshall,  the  great  Boston  beauty, 
who  married  the  mayor's  son,  William  Foster 


18  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

Otis,  on  May  18,  1831,  and  who  died  at  the 
Beacon  Street  home  of  her  father-in-law  August 
17,  1836,  aged  only  twenty -nine.  Emily  Mar- 
shall was  the  daughter  of  Josiah  Marshall,  who 
lived  on  Franklin  Street,  during  the  twen- 
ties and  thirties,  and  for  her  social  charm  no 
less  than  for  her  beauty  she  became  very  re- 
nowned. It  is  said  that  the  hackmen  who 
served  her  were  so  spellbound  with  admiration 
that  they  forgot  to  open  the  door  of  her  car- 
riage, and  at  a  Fair  gotten  up  by  the  ladies  of 
Boston,  in  1833,  to  benefit  the  building  fund 
of  the  Perkins  Institution  for  the  Blind  she 
personally  took  in  $2,000  at  her  table,  —  so 
great  was  her  vogue.  The  late  Mrs.  Samuel 
Eliot  of  Brimmer  Street  was  the  daughter  of 
this  famous  beauty,  the  charm  of  whose  features 
is  hinted  at  but  not  adequately  expressed  in 
the  well-known  portrait  by  Chester  Harding, 
still  in  the  possession  of  the  family.  There  was 
a  time  when  it  was  "the  thing"  in  Boston 
society  to  write  acrostic  sonnets  to  Emily 
Marshall.  One  of  these,  from  the  pen  of  N.  P. 
Willis,  runs  as  follows: 

"  Elegance  floats  about  thee  like  a  dress, 
Melting  the  airy  motion  of  thy  form 
Into  one  swaying  grace;  and  loveliness, 
Like  a  rich  tint  that  makes  a  picture  warm, 
Is  lurking  in  the  chestnut  of  thy  tress, 
Enriching  it,  as  moonlight  after  storm 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  19 

Mingles  dark  shadows  into  gentleness. 
A  beauty  that  bewilders  like  a  spell 
Reigns  in  thine  eyes'  clear  hazel;  and  thy  brow 
So  pure  in  veined  transparency  doth  tell 
How  spiritually  beautiful  art  thou  — 
A  temple  where  angelic  love  might  dwell. 
Life  in  thy  presence  were  a  thing  to  keep, 
Like  a  gay  dreamer  clinging  to  his  sleep." 

Merely  to  be  seen  in  the  company  of  this 
beauty  gave  one  a  chance  of  immortality. 
Quincy  in  his  Figures  of  the  Past  speaks  of 
seeing  "  Beau  Watson  "  walking  (in  1821)  on 
the  Dover  Street  Bridge,  then  a  favorite  prom- 
enade place,  with  the  fair  Emily,  who  must  then 
have  been  a  girl  in  her  teens.  "  Beau  "  Wat- 
son later  came  to  be  no  less  a  person  than  the 
Rev.  John  Lee  WTatson,  D.  D.,  assistant  minister 
of  Trinity  Church. 

Under  Mayor  Otis  Boston  introduced  mu- 
nicipal concerts  on  the  Common,  the  project 
being  engineered  by  the  Society  for  the  Sup- 
pression of  Intemperance,  who  declared  that 
"  such  a  practice  would  have  in  their  judgment 
a  tendency  to  promote  order  and  suppress  an 
inclination  to  riot  and  intemperance."  This 
same  year  (1830)  cows  were  excluded  from  the 
Common.  Ever  since  1660  rights  of  pasturage 
on  this  public  ground  had  been  enjoyed  by 
certain  householders,  but  latterly  the  kine  had 
not   been   invariably  respectful   to   the  ladies, 


20  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

and  Mayor  Otis,  who  was  nothing  if  not  gallant, 
signed  their  decree  of  banishment.  It  was  also 
under  Harrison  Gray  Otis,  and  upon  his  recom- 
mendation, that  the  Old  State  House  was  so 
altered  as  to  provide  accommodation  for  the 
mayor,  aldermen,  common  council  and  other 
city  officers. 

So  far  all  the  mayors  had  been  aristocrats 
addicted  to  an  elegant  mode  of  life  and  a 
magnificent  manner  of  doing  things.  As  a 
kind  of  protest  against  them  and  their  ways 
Charles  Wells  was  now  (1832)  put  in  as  the 
representative  of  the  middle  classes.  He  served 
without  distinction  and,  after  two  years,  was 
succeeded  by  Theodore  Lyman,  Jr.,  whose 
term  of  office  will  always  be  associated 
(though  perhaps  through  no  fault  of  his)  with 
two  of  the  most  disgraceful  affairs  ever  per- 
petrated in  an  American  city.  The  first  of 
these  culminated  in  the  burning  of  the  Ur- 
suline  Convent  in  Charlestown  (now  Somer- 
ville)  on  the  night  of  August  11,  1834.  The 
other,  treated  at  length  in  the  chapter  devoted 
to  the  rise  of  the  Anti-slavery  Movement, 
came  in  the  same  month  of  the  following 
year. 

Adequately  to  tell  the  story  of  "  The  Burning 
of  the  Convent  "  would  take  much  more  space 
than  I  can  here  command.  Besides,  it  has 
recently  (August    29,  1909)  been  very  beauti- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  21 

fully  told1  by  Miss  Mary  Boyle  O'Reilly, 
daughter  of  the  poet,  who  has  made  a  special 
study  of  the  subject.  Miss  O'Reilly  attributes 
the  ugly  spirit  which  fired  the  building  on 
Mount  Benedict  to  labor  troubles  in  the  first 
place,  and  to  an  injudicious  sermon  preached 
by  Rev.  Lymai  Beecher  in  the  second.  A 
quarter  of  a  million  Irish  had  landed  in  America 
between  1830-1885,  and  as  ten  thousand  of 
these  had  settled  in  Boston  they  naturally 
displaced  a  large  number  of  native  workmen. 
These  men  resented  the  coming  of  the  immi- 
grants and  caught  eagerly  at  any  opportunity 
which  should  offer  to  "  put  them  down." 
They  found  their  occasion  in  a  kind  of  penny- 
dreadful,  published  as  the  work  of  a  girl  who 
had  been  a  member  of  the  nuns'  community, 
the  same  production  which  supplied  Lyman 
Beecher  with  his  text.  And  the  preacher's 
inflammatory  words,  in  turn,  served  to  give 
specious  authority  to  the  acts  of  these  sore- 
headed  truckmen  who  had  constituted  them- 
selves the  "  defenders  "  of  Boston  against  the 
corrupting  (?)  influence  of  a  little  band  of  nuns 
whose  sole  offence  seems  to  have  been  that  they 
were  offering  rare  and  very  precious  educa- 
tional opportunities  to  the  girls  of  eastern  New 
England.  The  truckmen  had  given  notice, 
on  wretchedly  printed  posters  scattered  through- 

1  la  the  Boston  Globe. 


22  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

out  the  city,  that  they  would  demolish  the 
nunnery  on  a  certain  date,  and  there  seems  to 
have  been  no  reason  —  except  that  of  criminal 
negligence  —  for  the  failure  of  the  authorities 
to  have  a  stout  guard  on  duty  that  night  at  the 
convent.  No  wonder  five  thousand  good  Bos- 
ton citizens  assembled  in  Faneuil  Hall  (after 
the  damage  was  done !  )  to  protest  against  what 
they  might  well  call  "  an  unparalleled  outrage." 
But  though  such  men  as  Robert  C.  Winthrop, 
William  Appleton,  Theophilus  Parsons,  David 
Child,  Nathan  Appleton  and  many  more  signed 
a  paper  and 

Resolved,  That  in  the  opinion  of  the  citizens  of  Boston 
the  late  attack  on  the  Ursuline  convent,  in  Charlestown, 
occupied  only  by  defenceless  females,  was  a  base  and 
cowardly  act,  for  which  the  perpetrators  deserve  the 
contempt  and  detestation  of  the  community. 

Resolved,  That  the'  destruction  of  property  and  the 
danger  of  life  caused  thereby  calls  loudly  on  all  good  citi- 
zens to  express  individually  and  collectively  the  abhor- 
rence they  feel  in  this  high-handed  violation  of  the  laws. 

Resolved,  That  we,  the  Protestant  citizens  of  Boston, 

do   pledge   ourselves,    collectively    and   individually,    to 

unite   with   our   Catholic   brethren   in   protecting   their 

persons,  their  property  and  their  civil  and  religious  rights. 

Theodore  Lyman,  Jr.,  Chairman. 

Faneuil  Hall,  Aug.  12,  2  p.  m.,  1834. 

no  judgment  was  ever  brought  in  against  those 
who  committed  the  nefarious  deed  and  no 
indemnity   was   ever   paid   to   the   poor   nuns 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  23 

who  had  been  made  "  the  innocent  victims  of  a 
public  calamity."  Obviously  the  new  city  of 
Boston  had  still  much  to  learn  about  justice 
and  effective  government. 


CHAPTER  II 

brook  farm:  an  essay  in  socialism 

NOT  a  single  Brook  Farmer  was  ever 
known  to  admit  that  this  experiment 
in  communism  was  not  a  success.  Even 
Dana  and  Hawthorne  and  George  William 
Curtis  bore  testimony,  years  afterwards,  that 
they  had  passed  in  this  Arcady,  nine  miles 
from  Boston's  Beacon  Hill,  some  of  the  hap- 
piest days  of  their  lives  and  had  brought  away 
from  their  sojourn  there  an  enduring  impulse 
to  high  and  noble  things. 

The  only  Brook  Farmer  with  whom  I  have 
had  an  opportunity  to  talk  (almost  all  who  were 
members  of  the  community  have  now  passed 
away)  is  Mrs.  Rebecca  Codman  Butterfield,  a 
lady  of  eighty -five,  who  spent  five  years  of  her 
young  womanhood  at  the  community  and  who 
today  speaks  of  it  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm 
and  with  a  deep  glow  of  reminiscent  happiness 
in  her  still  fine  dark  eyes.  "  My  husband  was 
a  Brook  Farmer,  too,"  she  said  proudly,  "  one 
of  the  printers  of  the  Harbinger,  the  organ  of 
the  movement,  and  we  used  often  to  say,  after 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  25 

our  children  began  to  come,  that  we  wished 
ardently  that  it  were  possible  for  us  to  give  them 
anything  like  what  we  had  got  at  Brook  Farm. 
It  was  a  place  where  the  humblest  could  fulfil 
their  deepest  aspirations.  The  cobbler  was  a 
fine  Shakespeare  scholar,  and  Mr.  Ripley  loved 
above  everything  to  work  in  the  barn  with  the 
animals.  Mrs.  Ripley  used  to  wash  hours  at  a 
time,  and  I  recall  that  when  one  particularly 
disagreeable  piece  of  work  on  the  place  had  to 
be  done  volunteers  were  called  for,  with  the 
result  that  two  of  the  finest  young  men  of  the 
community  accomplished  a  '  drainman  '  chore 
one  night  while  the  rest  of  us  slept." 

Mrs.  Butterfield's  brother,  Dr.  John  Thomas 
Codman,  has  written  in  Historic  and  Personal 
Memoirs  of  Brook  Farm  the  only  long  account 
of  the  community's  ups  and  downs  ever  put  out 
by  one  who  had  intimately  shared  its  life. 
Ripley  would  have  been  the  natural  person  to 
write  such  a  story  and  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  he  contemplated  doing  so.  But  the  work 
was  never  done,  perhaps  because  the  whole 
thing  meant  so  much  more  to  him  than  it  could 
possibly  have  meant  to  anybody  else. 

Carlyle  described  Ripley,  who  once  called  on 
him  in  England,  as  "  A  Socinian  minister,  who 
had  left  the  pulpit  to  reform  the  world  by  cul- 
tivating onions."  This  gibe  always  makes  me 
hate   Carlyle;    Ripley's   essay   in   brotherhood 


26  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

was  so  heroic  without  at  all  meaning  to  be! 
That  Ripley  had  a  pulpit  which  he  was  glad  to 
abandon  is  true;  he  found  himself  (in  1840) 
far  from  comfortable  in  his  Purchase  Street 
Church  and  took  counsel  with  the  members  of 
the  Transcendental  Club,  so-called,  to  see 
whether  it  might  be  possible  "  to  bring  culti- 
vated, thoughtful  people  together,  and  make  a 
society  that  deserved  the  name."  There  is 
mention,  in  this  connection,  of  a  conference  at 
the  house  of  Dr.  John  C.  Warren,  which  ended 
"  with  an  oyster  supper  crowned  by  excellent 
wines."  One  does  not  wonder,  after  hearing 
the  setting  for  his  appeal,  that  the  ex-minister 
did  not  win  many  converts  that  night  and  that 
all  his  hearers  found  themselves  with  other 
things  to  do. 

Even  Emerson,  when  approached  in  the 
matter,  replied  negatively,  giving  as  his  frank 
reason  for  so  doing  that  investments  in  Concord 
were  securer  than  they  were  likely  to  be  at 
Brook  Farm.  (Later,  he  compared  Brook  Farm 
to  "  a  French  Revolution  in  small.")  Yet  his 
refusal  seems  to  have  been  due  less  to  disin- 
clination to  venture  his  money  than  to  his 
inherent  dislike  of  organization,  and  to  his 
exaggerated  reverence  for  his  own  selfhood. 
A  discerning  woman  once  said  that  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  confess  to  Mr.  Emerson,  "  but 
that  he  would  be  shocked  at  the  proposition 


r' '"•■•■'  t  "  , 

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l  1  «  S.T.J  3 

?  .•-.'-  ^ 

IN    OLD    BOSTON  27 

to  take  charge  of  even  one  soul."  Certainly 
he  shrank,  almost  with  horror,  from  the  as- 
sociative life  implied  in  the  Brook  Farm  proposi- 
tion, though,  all  the  while,  the  idealist  in  him 
gave  the  movement  secret  encouragement  and 
applause. 

Mr.  Ripley  had  already  in  mind  the  spot  upon 
which  to  try  his  experiment,  for,  in  the  summer 
of  1840,  he  and  his  wife  had  boarded  at  a 
pleasant  milk-farm  in  West  Roxbury  through 
which  a  little  brook  ran  cheerfully  down  to  the 
Charles  River  near  by,  and  in  which  he  found 
many  of  the  possibilities  he  sought.  They  had 
left  the  place  full  of  eagerness  to  return  and 
carry  out  what  had  become  their  dearest  wish: 
a  movement  "  to  insure  a  more  natural  union* 
between  intellectual  and  manual  labor  than 
exists;  to  combine  the  thinker  and  the  worker 
as  far  as  possible  in  the  same  individual;  to 
guarantee  the  highest  mental  freedom  by  pro- 
viding all  with  labor  adapted  to  their  tastes  and 
talents,  and  securing  to  them  the  fruits  of  their 
industry;  to  do  away  with  the  necessity  of 
menial  services  by  opening  the  benefits  of 
education  and  the  profits  of  labor  to  all;  and 
thus  to  prepare  a  society  of  liberal,  intelligent 
and  cultivated  persons,  whose  relations  with 
each  other  would  permit  a  more  wholesome 
and  simple  life  than  can  be  led  amidst  the 
pressure  of  our  competitive  institutions."  , 


28  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

The  means  to  this  end  were  set  forth  as  the 
cultivation  of  a  garden,  a  farm,  and  the  estab- 
lishment thereon  of  a  school  or  college  in  which 
the  most  complete  instruction  should  be  given 
from  the  first  rudiments  to  the  highest  culture. 
Thirty  thousand  dollars,  it  was  decided,  would 
supply  land  and  buildings  for  ten  families 
and  allow  a  sufficient  margin  to  cover  the  first 
year's  expenses.  This  sum  Ripley  proposed 
to  raise  by  forming  a  joint-stock  company 
among  those  who  were  friendly  to  his  enterprise, 
each  subscriber  to  be  guaranteed  a  fixed  interest, 
and  the  subscriptions  to  be  secured  by  the  real 
estate. 

The  first  step  towards  the  execution  of  the 
project  was  the  purchase  (in  the  winter  of 
1840-1)  of  Brook  Farm  by  Ripley  himself,  he 
taking  the  responsibility  of  its  management  and 
success.  Never  did  a  man  more  conscientiously 
discharge  an  obligation!  Every  debt  was  paid 
off  by  him  even  when  he  himself  was  obliged 
to  work  at  a  wretched  wage  for  the  money  with 
which  to  do  this.  The  business  arrangements  of 
the  enterprise,  from  its  hopeful  beginning  to 
its  saddened  end,  are  carefully  traced  by  Lindsay 
Swift  in  one  chapter  of  his  charming  volume, 
Brook  Farm,  its  Members,  Scholars  and  Vis- 
itors. Suffice  it  here,  therefore,  merely  to  say 
that,  in  the  spring  of  1841,  one  third  of  the 
necessary  amount  was  actually  paid  in,  and  the 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  29 

nucleus  of  the  community  took  possession  of 
the  farm-house  which,  with  a  large  barn,  was 
already  on  the  estate. 

In  Ripley's  mind,  and  in  the  minds  of  the 
more  thoughtful  of  those  who  began  the  ex- 
periment with  him,  the  idea  of  Brook  Farm  was 
not  at  all,  as  has  been  generally  supposed,  to 
secure  an  idyllic  retreat  for  a  favored  few,  but 
to  express  belief  in  the  brotherhood  of  man  and 
to  proclaim  through  community  life  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  realizing  this  belief.  George  P. 
Bradford,  who  was  of  the  original  family,  has 
(in  his  chapter  of  the  Memorial  History  of 
Boston)  expressed  the  plan  thus:  "The  move- 
ment was  one  form  of  the  strong  and  rising 
feeling  of  humanity  and  of  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  then  so  widely  pervading  the  community. 
With  it,  too,  came  the  desire  and  hope  for  better 
conditions  of  life  in  which  the  less  fortunate 
classes  might  come  to  share  in  the  privileges, 
comforts,  and  various  advantages  belonging  to 
civilized  society.  The  feeling  which  at  this 
time  manifested  itself  in  an  excited  form  in  the 
anti-slavery  agitation  may  indirectly  have  had 
some  effect  in  suggesting  or  stimulating  this 
movement.  Mr.  Ripley  and  others  with  him, 
while  sympathizing  with  the  objects  of  the 
Abolitionists,  thought  that  as  the  evils  of  which 
slavery  is  so  signal  and  conspicuous  a  form  lay 
deep  in  the  present  constitution  and  arrange- 


30  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

ment  of  society,  so  their  remedy  could  only  be 
found  in  a  modification  or  radical  change  of 
ordinary  life. 

"  The  feeling,  then,  which  lay  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Brook  Farm  enterprise,  and  from  which 
it  mainly  sprang,  was  dissatisfaction  with  the 
existing  conditions  of  society,  —  that  under 
these  some  classes  enjoy  the  advantages  of  high 
culture  and  the  gratification  of  the  intellect 
and  taste,  and  if  obliged  to  work  in  some  way 
for  subsistence  they  yet  have  leisure  and  oppor- 
tunity for  refined  recreation  and  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  comfortable  or  elegant  modes  of  living, 
and  are  in  some  respects  subject  to  more  favor- 
able moral  influences;  while,  under  these  also, 
other  classes  are  doomed  to  wearisome  or  painful 
drudgery  and  incessant  toil,  without  oppor- 
tunity for  the  enjoyment  of  intellect  and  taste, 
confined  to  dreary,  squalid  conditions  of  exist- 
ence, and  more  exposed  to  temptations  at  least 
to  the  more  flagrant  crimes.  Then,  again,  there 
was  the  feeling  that  there  is  something  wrong 
in  the  mode  of  industry  as  now  constituted, 
namely,  competitive  industry;  ...  in  which 
one  man's  gain  is  another  man's  loss,  and  the 
necessities  of  which  make  it  the  interest  of 
each  to  get  away  from  others  and  to  appropriate 
to  himself  as  large  a  share  as  possible  of  this 
world's  goods,  —  a  condition  of  things  seemingly 
so  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christian  brother- 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  31 

hood.  Consequently  a  mode  of  life  was  de- 
sired ...  in  which  this  evil  condition  of  the 
relations  of  society  might  be  corrected." 

It  would  seem  from  the  above-quoted  state- 
ment that  the  ideals  which  inspired  the  move- 
ment were  nothing  more  or  less  than  those 
embodied  in  what  we  are  today  calling 
"  Christian  Socialism,"  one  of  whose  disciples 
has  put  the  thing  thus  succinctly:  "  If  manual 
labor  is  a  blessing,  not  a  curse,  I  want  my  part  of 
it;  if  it  is  a  curse,  not  a  blessing,  I  ought  to  take 
my  turn."  *  Of  course,  there  were  other  and 
more  superficial  motives  inciting  to  an  interest  in 
the  enterprise  and  a  desire  to  have  a  part  in  it. 
The  prospect  of  a  pleasant  social  life,  with 
congenial  society,  somewhat  free  from  distaste- 
ful conventions,  moved  some.  Others  were 
attracted  by  the  idea  of  a  life  of  mingled  physical 
and  intellectual  labor  as  exhilarating  and  health- 
ful. And  young  women,  especially,  to  whom  in 
that  day  comparatively  few  interesting  occupa- 
tions were  open,  hailed  eagerly  the  opportunity 
thus  afforded  to  earn  a  living  amid  congenial 
surroundings. 

Hawthorne  was  one  of  the  first  to  embrace 
community  life  at  Brook  Farm,  and  in  what 
has  come  to  be  known  as  the  epic  of  the  place, 
The  Bliihedale  Romance,  he  analyzes  with 
characteristic    acumen  the   psychology   of    his 

1  Vida  D.  Scudder  in  A  Listener  In  Babel. 


32  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

co-laborers  for  the  common  good,  —  "  our  little 
army  of  saints  and  martyrs,"  as  he  rather 
scathingly  calls  them.  '  They  were  mostly 
individuals  who  had  gone  through  such  an 
experience  as  to  disgust  them  with  ordinary 
pursuits,  but  who  were  not  yet  so  old,  nor  had 
suffered  so  deeply,  as  to  lose  their  faith  in  the 
better  time  to  come.  On  comparing  their 
minds,  one  with  another,  they  often  discovered 
that  this  idea  of  a  Community  had  been  growing 
up,  in  silent  and  unknown  sympathy,  for  years. 
Thoughtful,  strongly  lined  faces  were  among 
them;  sombre  brows,  but  eyes  that  did  not 
require  spectacles,  unless  prematurely  dimmed 
by  the  student's  lamplight,  and  hair  that 
seldom  showed  a  thread  of  silver.  Age,  wedded 
to  the  past,  incrusted  over  with  a  stony  layer 
of  habits  and  retaining  nothing  fluid  in  its 
possibilities,  would  have  been  absurdly  out  of 
place  in  an  enterprise  like  this.  Youth,  too, 
in  its  early  dawn,  was  hardly  more  adapted  to 
our  purpose;  .  .  .  We  had  very  young  people 
with  us  it  is  true,  —  downy  lads,  rosy  girls  in 
their  first  teens  and  children  of  all  heights 
above  one's  knee,  —  but  these  had  chiefly  been 
sent  thither  for  education,  which  it  was  one  of 
the  objects  and  methods  of  our  institution 
to  supply.  Then  we  had  boarders,  from  town 
and  elsewhere,  who  lived  with  us  in  a  familiar 
way,  sympathized  more  or  less  in  our  theories 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  33 

and  sometimes  shared  in  our  labors.  On  the 
whole  it  was  a  society  such  as  has  seldom 
met  together.  ..." 

It  was  indeed.  And  nothing  about  it  was 
more  anomalous  than  the  presence  in  it  as  a 
regular  Community  member  of  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, poet  and  romancer.  His  deciding 
motive  in  joining  the  enterprise  does  not 
appear;  but  it  seems  more  than  possible 
that  he  was  himself  among  those  in  whom 
recent  experience  of  the  world  had  awakened 
"  disgust,"  for  he  had  just  severed  his  relation 
with  the  Boston  Custom  House,  and  it  was  with 
the  thousand  dollars  that  he  had  saved  from  his 
government  earnings  that  he  purchased  shares 
18  and  19  of  the  Association  stock.  He  arrived 
in  the  midst  of  one  of  those  late  spring  snow- 
storms, "  which,  as  Lindsay  Swift  says,  *■  never 
fail  to  impress  a  New  Englander  with  their 
unseasonableness,  though  they  are  as  invariable 
as  the  solstices.' " 

To  set  out  on  such  an  untoward  April  day 
for  an  adventure  in  Arcady  might  well  give 
any  man  pause.  Hawthorne  superbly  voices 
the  reflections  such  a  situation  would  engender: 
"  The  greatest  obstacle  to  being  heroic  is  the 
doubt  whether  one  may  not  be  going  to  prove 
oneself  a  fool;  the  truest  heroism  is  to  resist 
the  doubt;  and  the  profoundest  wisdom  to 
know  when  it  ought  to  be  resisted,  and  when  to 


34  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

be  obeyed."  There  is  a  life  philosophy  for  you, 
apropos  of  an  April  snowstorm!  And  the  para- 
graph —  in  The  Blithedale  Romance  —  which 
immediately  follows  this  one,  and  describes  as 
only  an  artist  in  words  could  that  long-ago 
snowstorm  and  the  way  in  which  its  exhilara- 
tions and  its  buffets  reacted  upon  the  sensitized 
mind  of  our  tyro  in  altruism,  is  a  masterly 
piece  of  writing.  Then  comes  this,  —  and  it 
is  the  crux  of  the  matter:  "  Whatever  else  I 
may  repent  of,  however,  let  it  be  reckoned 
neither  among  my  sins  nor  follies  that  I  once 
had  faith  and  force  enough  to  form  generous 
hopes  of  the  world's  destiny,  —  yes !  —  and  to 
do  what  in  me  lay  for  their  accomplishment." 

Hawthorne's  immediate  duty,  at  Brook  Farm, 
was  "  to  play  chambermaid  to  a  cow."  At 
any  rate  that  is  the  way  he  put  the  thing  after 
he  had  tired  of  it.  At  first  the  scenery  delighted 
him  and  he  evinced  considerable  enthusiasm 
over  his  tasks.  In  a  letter  to  his  sister  Louisa 
he  wrote,  "  This  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
places  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  and  as  secluded  as 
if  it  were  a  hundred  miles  from  any  city  or 
village."  Presently  he  writes,  "  I  have  milked 
a  cow!  "  One  of  his  first  bucolic  experiences 
was  with  the  famous  "  transcendental  heifer  " 
which  was  named  (very  likely  by  Hawthorne) 
"  Margaret  Fuller  "  because  the  beast  proved 
rather   strong   minded   and   had   finally   to   be 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  35 

sent  to  Coventry  by  the  more  docile  kind, 
always  to  be  counted  on  as  more  or  less  con- 
servative. Hawthorne  later  refers  to  this  animal 
as  having  "  a  very  intelligent  face  "  and  "  a 
reflective  cast  of  character."  They  all  got 
a  good  deal  of  fun  at  Brook  Farm,  over  the 
qualities  imputed  to  their  four-footed  friends. 
Dr.  Codman  tells  of  a  fine  imported  bull  who, 
because  he  did  not  seem  to  be  doing  his  share 
of  work  in  their  very  industrious  community, 
was  harnessed  up  with  a  ring  through  his  nose 
and  made  to  draw  a  tip  cart.  His  name  was 
"  Prince  Albert."  Then  there  was  "  Cyclops," 
too,  a  large  raw-boned  gray  mare  so  christened 
because  she  had  only  one  eye. 

Ripley  loved  working  with  the  animals,  but 
Hawthorne  never  did,  and  by  the  middle  of 
the  August  which  followed  the  April  of  his 
arrival  we  find  him  writing,  "Ina  little  more 
than  a  fortnight  I  shall  be  free  from  my  bondage 
—  free  to  enjoy  Nature  —  free  to  think  and 
feel.  .  .  .  Oh,  labor  is  the  curse  of  the  world 
and  nobody  can  meddle  with  it  without  be- 
coming proportionably  brutified !  "  Yet  he  stuck 
it  out  for  a  whole  year  and  referred  always 
to  his  stay  at  Brook  Farm  as  the  romantic 
period  of  his  life.  When  he  came  to  write  his 
epic  of  the  place  he  closed  the  story  with  this 
beautiful  passage:  "  Often  in  these  years  that 
are    darkening    around    me,    I    remember    our 


36  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

beautiful  scheme  of  a  noble  and  unselfish  life, 
and  how  fair  in  that  first  summer  appeared  the 
prospect  that  it  might  endure  for  generations 
and  be  perfected,  as  the  ages  rolled  by,  into  a 
system  of  a  people  and  a  world.  Were  my  former 
associates  now  there  —  were  there  only  three 
or  four  of  those  true-hearted  men  now  laboring 
in  the  sun  —  I  sometimes  fancy  that  I  would 
direct  my  world-weary  footsteps  thitherward, 
and  entreat  them  to  receive  me  for  old  friend- 
ship's sake." 

The  reproach  hurled  today  at  nearly  all 
socialistic  enterprises  —  that  they  stand  for 
"  free  love  "  —  early  came  to  be  used  as  a  boom- 
erang to  throw  at  Brook  Farm.  Mrs.  Butterfield 
tells  me  that  her  father  and  mother  were  looked 
upon  as  most  rashly  endangering  the  souls  of 
their  young  children  when  they  took  them,  the 
second  year  of  the  experiment,  to  "  that  regular 
free  love  institution."  Now,  of  course,  this 
charge  was  grossly  untrue.  But  it  soon  began 
to  militate  very  powerfully,  none  the  less, 
against  the  success  of  the  school  which,  at  the 
start,  was  to  have  been  a  chief  source  of  income. 
In  the  fall  term  of  1842  the  school's  teaching 
staff  was  composed  of  the  following  instructors: 
George  Ripley,  Intellectual  and  Natural  Phi- 
losophy and  Mathematics;  George  P.  Bradford, 
Belles  Lettres;  John  S.  Dwight,  Latin  and 
Music;   Charles  A.  Dana,  Greek  and   German; 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  37 

John  S.  Brown,  Theoretical  and  Practical 
Agriculture;  Sophia  W.  Ripley,  History  and 
Modern  Languages;  Marianne  Ripley,  Pri- 
mary School;  Abigail  Morton,  Infant  School; 
Georgiana  Bruce,  Infant  School;  Hannah  B. 
Ripley,  Drawing.  The  infant  school  was  for 
children  under  six  years  of  age;  the  primary 
school  for  children  under  ten;  the  preparatory 
school  for  pupils  over  ten  years  of  age  intending 
to  pursue  the  higher  branches  of  study  in  the 
institution.  A  young  man  could  fit  for  college 
in  six  years  at  Brook  Farm  or  he  could  take  a 
three  years'  course  in  theoretical  and  practical 
agriculture.  In  any  case  he  was  expected  to 
spend  from  one  to  two  hours  daily  in  manual 
labor.  Now  with  such  teachers,  such  a  well- 
planned  course  and  a  healthy  country  back- 
ground upon  which  to  live  a  free  and  happifying 
life,  it  would  seem  as  if  the  school  ought  greatly 
to  have  succeeded.  For  a  while,  indeed,  it  did 
flourish  like  the  proverbial  green  bay  tree; 
Harvard  College  sent  to  its  stimulating  care 
young  men  who  needed  to  study  hard  for  a 
while  in  a  community  less  exciting  than  Cam- 
bridge, —  and  their  presence  added  not  a  little, 
as  the  presence  of  college  boys  always  does,  to 
the  color  and  variety  of  the  life. 

Charles  A.  Dana  was  one  of  the  Harvard 
youths  who  found  his  way  to  the  farm  in  the 
the  middle  of  his  college  career,  but  he  came  as 


38  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

a  "  professor  "  and  not  as  a  pupil.  Born  at 
Hinsdale,  New  Hampshire,  in  1819,  he  had 
passed  his  boyhood  in  Buffalo,  and  there  fitted 
himself  for  Harvard  College,  which  he  entered 
in  1839.  In  the  middle  of  his  course  his  sight 
became  seriously  impaired  from  reading  "  Oliver 
Twist  "  by  candle  light.  When  at  three  in  the 
morning  he  finished  the  badly  printed  volume 
he  found  that  he  could  scarcely  see..  Study, 
therefore,  had  to  be  abandoned  for  the  time, 
and  he  was  very  glad  to  accept  the  invitation 
of  the  Harvard  men  already  at  Brook  Farm  to 
go  there  as  instructor  in  Greek  and  German. 
He  did  his  work  as  a  teacher  well,  contributed 
articles  to  the  Harbinger,  —  when  that  organ 
of  the  Brook  Farmers  came  to  be  established,  — 
and  was  throughout  his  five  years  of  connection 
with  the  movement  loyal  and  interested. 

Another  famous  editor  who  passed  valuable  for- 
mative years  at  Brook  Farm  was  George  William 
Curtis,  who,  with  his  brother  Burrill,  went  out 
there  as  a  boarder  in  1842.  Miss  Amelia  Russell, 
who  has  written  charmingly  of  the  home-life 
at  Brook  Farm,  calls  the  Curtis  brothers 
"  Greek  gods,"  —  so  handsome  were  they.  Tra- 
dition recalls  that  they  had  an  especial  fondness 
for  picnics  and  that  he,  whom  we  now  associate 
chiefly  with  an  Easy  Chair,  danced,  at  a  certain 
Brook  Farm  junket,  in  a  short  green  skirt 
modelled  on  that  worn  by  Fanny  Ellsler! 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  39 

A  seeker  after  country  beauty  might  well 
choose  Brook  Farm  today  as  an  ideal  place  in 
which  to  take  refuge  from  a  jarring  world.  It 
still  has  a  slender  little  brook  gurgling  through 
its  undulating  meadows  and  there  is  a  happy  air 
of  peace  resting  upon  its  woods  and  hill-tops. 
The  accompanying  picture  is  a  photograph  of 
a  painting  done  in  1845  by  Josiah  Wolcott,  then 
a  resident  at  the  community.  It  belonged  to 
Mrs.  Butterfield  and  is  interesting  as  an  authen- 
tic contemporary  reproduction  of  the  actual 
"  set  "  of  this  inspiriting  drama  of  brotherhood. 
At  the  extreme  right  is  shown  the  Hive,  the 
farm  house  which  stood  not  far  from  the  road 
when  the  life  of  the  little  community  began  and 
which  was  immediately  utilized.  Here  was  the 
heart  of  the  community:  Mr.  Ripley's  library; 
the  first  day  nursery  ever  known  in  America,  — 
a  room  where  mothers  could  leave  their  children 
in  care  of  the  Nursery  Group  while  they  did  their 
daily  work;  "  Attica,"  a  large  upper  room 
where  the  unmarried  men  slept;  and  the  low- 
studded  dining-room  with  its  old-fashioned 
fireplace  of  brick  and  its  pine  tables  set  off 
with  white  linen  and  white  table-ware  and 
having  white  painted  benches  on  either  side. 

At  the  highest  point  of  land  which  the  farm 
contained  (and  the  second  building  from  the 
right  in  the  picture)  was  built,  in  1842,  the 
Eyrie,   a   square   wooden   structure   of   smooth 


40  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

matched  boards  painted,  after  the  imitative 
fashion  of  the  day,  the  color  of  gray  sandstone. 
The  house  was  reached  by  a  long  flight  of  steps 
from  the  farm  road  and  the  view  from  it  was  a 
delight.  Into  this  house  the  Ripleys  moved  as 
soon  as  it  was  finished.  The  "Margaret  Fuller 
Cottage,"  of  the  community  buildings,  remains 
today.  It  was  the  next  house  erected  after  the 
Eyrie.  The  remaining  building,  at  the  extreme 
left  of  the  picture,  was  called  Pilgrim  House, 
and  was  built  by  Ichabod  Morton  for  the  use  of 
his  family.  It  is  interesting  to  us  as  having  been 
the  editorial  office  of  the  Harbinger. 

And  now  let  us  see  what  manner  of  daily 
life  was  led  in  this  community  by  those  who 
had  there  withdrawn  from  the  world  to  help 
in  the  world's  reformation.  Emerson  always 
rather  poked  fun  at  Brook  Farm,  though  he 
admitted  that  it  was  a  pleasant  place  where 
lasting  friendships  were  formed  and  the  "  art 
of  letter  writing  was  stimulated."  He  implies 
that  there  was  a  shirking  of  labor  on  the  part 
of  some,  and  perhaps  that  is  true.  Human 
nature  is  pretty  apt  to  be  human  nature  even 
at  Brook  Farm.  "  The  country  members,"  he 
says,  "  were  naturally  surprised  to  observe  that 
one  man  ploughed  all  day  and  one  looked  out 
of  the  window  all  day  —  and  perhaps  drew  his 
picture,  and  both  received  at  night  the  same 
wages." 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  41 

The  work  of  the  household  as  well  as  of  the 
farm  was  organized  by  groups,  and  Mrs.  Butter- 
field  is  as  sure  today  as  she  was  then  that 
necessary  labor  can  be  greatly  lightened  as  well 
as  sweetened  by  working  in  this  manner. 
"  Let  us  suppose  it  is  Tuesday,"  she  says. 
"  The  rising  horn  sounded  at  five  o'clock  in 
summer.  I  often  used  to  get  up  and  go  around 
from  house  to  house  with  a  peculiar  whistle  as 
a  signal  to  some  members  of  the  singing  group 
to  sing  under  John  S.  D wight's  windows  from 
6  to  7.  We  sang  Mozart's  and  Haydn's  masses, 
and  it  was  glorious  to  hear  that  sacred  music 
in  the  still,  beautiful  morning  air.  I  never  can 
forget  it.  I  think  it  was  one  of  the  holiest  and 
most  inspiring  things  in  my  life. 

"  Then  came  breakfast  in  the  Hive  and  after 
breakfast  our  work.  I  greatly  enjoyed  ironing, 
and  on  Tuesday  I  would  work  all  the  morning 
with  that  group.  Dinner  was  at  twelve  o'clock 
and  in  the  afternoon  there  were  German  and 
French  classes  to  which  any  one  who  wanted 
to  study  could  go.  The  cobbler  would  stop  in 
his  mending  of  shoes  to  go  to  the  Shakespeare 
class,  making  up  time  afterward.  As  a  rule 
the  women  did  the  housework,  and  the  men  that 
connected  with  the  farm,  but  the  men  helped 
in  the  housework  too  when  that  seemed  advis- 
able. The  baker  was  a  man  —  Father  Hecker, 
founder  of  the  Paulist  order,  he  came  to  be 


42  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

afterward,  —  another  man  was  assistant  in  the 
laundry  and  one  of  the  young  fellows  carried 
water  for  the  dormitories. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  made 
upon  my  youthful  mind,  the  day  our  family 
arrived  at  the  farm,  by  seeing  one  of  the  culti- 
vated gentlemen  from  Concord  hanging  out  the 
morning's  washing.  Yet  that  was  not  inap- 
propriate work  in  rough  weather  for  a  man. 
Our  women  seldom  participated  in  outdoor 
work,  though  I  remember  that,  on  one  or  more 
occasions  when  help  in  that  direction  was  im- 
peratively needed,  half  a  dozen  of  our  young 
women  did  very  active  work  in  the  hay  field. 
In  several  of  the  groups,  notably  the  waiting 
groups,  the  young  men  and  women  were  about 
equally  divided.  Charles  A.  Dana  was  at  one 
time  head  waiter.  After  washing  for  three 
hours  every  Monday  morning  Mrs.  Ripley 
would  have  her  classes  at  the  school  in  the 
afternoon.  Ah!  but  she  was  a  rare  and  lovely 
soul." 

Rare!  indeed.  Too  much  emphasis  can 
scarcely  be  laid,  in  writing  about  Brook  Farm, 
upon  the  exquisite  quality  of  this  woman  who 
upheld  the  hands  and  sustained  the  courage  of 
the  founder  of  the  enterprise.  Granddaughter 
of  Chief  Justice  Dana,  our  first  minister  to 
Russia,  she  had  been  a  teacher,  —  when  Ripley 
came  to  love  her,  —  in  a  boarding  and  day 


CHARLES    A.    DANA. 

After  a  daguerreotype. 
Page  38. 


DR.    ORESTES    A.    BROWNSON    AS    HE 
LOOKED    WHEN    AT    BROOK    FARM. 

Page  47. 


GEORGE    RIPLEY, 
Page- 44. 


FATHER    HECKER    IN    HIS    PRIME. 

From  a  rare  photograph  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Paulist  Fathers, 
'New  York. 

Page  47. 


SOUTH  SIDE   OF  TEMPLE   PLACE   ABOUT   1865. 


mksk 


BOSTON    FROM    THE    STATE    HOUSE,    ABOUT    1858. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  43 

school  for  young  ladies  held  in  Fay  House, 
Cambridge.  In  that  house  she  was  married 
to  Ripley  (August  22,  1827)  by  the  father  of 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  Their  alliance  was 
"  founded  not  upon  any  romantic  or  sudden 
passion,  but  upon  great  respect  for  her  intel- 
lectual power,  moral  worth,  deep  and  true 
Christian  piety  and  peculiar  refinement  and 
dignity  of  character,"  wrote  the  young  husband 
to  a  friend.  Ripley  came  of  farmer  stock  —  his 
boyhood  home  was  in  the  beautiful  Connecticut 
valley,  —  but  he  was  a  lover  of  books,  a  graduate 
of  Harvard  College,  and  he  had  chosen  the 
ministry  for  his  profession. 

It  seemed  indeed  as  if  the  life  the  pair  would 
lead  must  be  that  of  a  quiet  Boston  parson  and 
his  wife,  for  he  was  soon  called  over  the  church 
at  the  corner  of  Pearl  and  Purchase  Streets, 
and  he  stayed  there  preaching  Unitarianism  as 
he  saw  it  for  fourteen  years.  But,  during  those 
years  there  came  to  him  a  vision  of  that  great 
truth  which  is  now  bursting  afresh  upon  the 
minds  of  earnest-minded  ministers,  —  that, 
under  existing  social  conditions  it  is  well-nigh 
impossible  to  harmonize  Christian  doctrine  and 
Christian  life.  He  tried  to  preach  the  social 
gospel,  but  his  people  were  not  responsive. 
Finally,  therefore  (in  October,  1840),  he  wrote 
them  from  Northampton  a  manly  letter  in 
which  he  set  forth  with  absolute  open-minded- 


./ 


44  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

ness  the  reasons  for  the  faith  which  was  in  him, 
and  his  reluctant  conviction  that  he  and  they 
could  not  longer  work  together.  This  letter 
was  accepted  as  definitive  by  his  congregation, 
and  on  March  28,  1841,  they  listened  respect- 
fully but  with  resignation,  to  their  minister's 
farewell  sermon. 

The  compact  description  of  Ripley  given  by 
his  biographer,  Rev.  O.  B.  Frothingham,  warms 
one's  heart  to  the  man.  "  He  was  no  unbeliever, 
no  sceptic,  no  innovator  in  matters  of  opinion 
or  observance,  but  a  quiet  student,  a  scholar, 
a  man  of  books,  a  calm,  bright-minded,  whole- 
souled  thinker,  believing,  hopeful,  sunny,  but 
absorbed  in  philosophical  pursuits.  Well  does 
the  writer  of  these  lines  recall  the  vision  of  a 
slender  figure  wearing  in  summer  the  flowing 
silk  robe,  in  winter  the  dark  blue  cloak  of  the 
profession,  walking  with  measured  step  from 
his  residence  in  Rowe  Street  towards  the  meet- 
ing house  in  Purchase  Street.  The  face  was 
shaven  clean,  the  brown  hair  curled  in  close 
crisp  ringlets,  the  face  was  pale  as  if  in  thought; 
the  gold-rimmed  spectacles  concealed  black 
eyes;  the  head  was  alternately  bent  and  raised. 
No  one  could  have  guessed  that  the  man  had 
in  him  the  fund  of  humor  in  which  his  friends 
delighted,  or  the  heroism  in  social  reform  which, 
a  few  years  later,  amazed  the  community." 
To   Emerson   Ripley   wrote   that   his   idea   of 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  45 

personal  happiness  would  be  to  rent  a  place 
upon  which  he  could  live  independently  —  "  and 
one  day  drive  his  own  cart  to  market  and  sell 
greens."  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  possessed 
neither  the  taste  nor  the  temperament  of  a 
magnetic  leader  of  men. 

Mrs.  Ripley  was  quite  different.  She  sup- 
plied what  he  lacked  in  this  way.  She  was 
ardent,  impulsive,  deeply  sympathetic.  Her 
power  of  enthusing  those  who  came  in  contact 
with  her  was  extraordinary  and  "  impossible 
seemed  a  word  unknown  to  her."  She  was  a 
tall  and  graceful  woman  with  fair  coloring. 
When  it  is  said  of  her  that,  by  reason  of  being 
chief  of  the  wash-room  group,  she  made  the 
laundry  "  a  place  of  almost  seductive  cheerful- 
ness," one  has  perhaps  given  the  strongest 
proof  needed  of  her  magnetism  and  buoyancy. 

With  such  people  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley 
at  its  head  and  such  men  as  Dana  and  John  S. 
Dwight  acting  as  effective  lieutenants,  Brook 
Farm  was  sure  to  be  a  Mecca  for  visitors.  The 
popularity  of  the  place  helped  towards  its 
undoing,  indeed.  Dr.  Codman  records  that, 
in  one  year,  more  than  four  thousand  people 
came  out  to  the  farm  to  stay  for  a  longer  or 
shorter  period.  At  first  these  people  were  made 
welcome  to  meals  without  charge  and  members 
of  the  community  were  drafted  to  show  them 
about.     But  when  their  number  came  to  be 


46  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

"  legion  "  it  was  found  necessary  to  exact  a  fee 
for  the  food  consumed,  and  they  were  left  to 
wander  as  they  would.  "  Yet  every  pleasant 
day  from  May  to  November,"  the  historian 
of  the  place  declares,  "  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren were  passing  from  Hive  to  Eyrie  and  over 
the  farm  back  to  the  Hive,  where  they  took 
private  carriage  or  public  coach  for  their  de- 
parture. Among  these  people  were  some  of  the 
oddest  of  the  odd;  those  who  rode  every  con- 
ceivable hobby;  some  of  all  religions;  bond  and 
free,  transcendental  and  occidental;  anti-slavery 
and  pro-slavery;  come-outers,  communists, 
fruitists  and  flutists;  dreamers  and  schemers 
of  all  sorts."  In  a  word  cranks  galore.  Such 
was  Bronson  Alcott's  friend  Lane,  who  was 
opposed  to  eating  anything  that  was  killed  or 
had  died,  so  ate  neither  fish  nor  flesh;  who  was 
opposed  to  wearing  wool  because  it  was  an 
animal  product  and  implied  robbing  the  sheep 
of  its  protection;  who  was  opposed  to  wearing 
cotton  and  would  use  neither  rice  nor  sugar 
because  they  were  products  of  slave  labor;  for 
whom  no  way  of  getting  to  Brook  Farm  but 
on  his  legs  seemed  possible  and  no  encompassing 
garment  but  a  linen  suit  could  be  regarded  as 
sufficiently  moral.  Alcott  himself  did  not  come 
often.  He  found  Concord  a  more  favorable 
spot  in  which  to  follow  his  peculiar  genius. 
Moreover,  he  was   fresh  from    the    failure   of 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  47 

his  own  recent  experiment  in  community 
life  at  Fruitlands,  near  Harvard,  Massachu- 
setts. 

Orestes  Augustus  Brownson  was  one  of  the 
interesting  characters  who  wandered  back  and 
forth  between  Brook  Farm  and  the  outer 
world.  Brownson  had  experienced  so  many 
kinds  of  religion  before  he  "  walked  backward 
into  the  Catholic  Church  "  that  it  was  once 
remarked  of  him,  when  a  preacher  invited  to  the 
communion  table  the  members  of  all  Christian 
churches,  that  Brownson  was  the  only  person  in 
the  congregation  who  could  "  fill  the  bill." 

Brownson  it  was  who  brought  to  the  farm 
Isaac  Hecker,  —  already  referred  to  as  the 
family  baker,  —  who  became  the  head  of  the 
Paulists  and,  in  his  day,  the  best  interpreter 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  to  the  cool- 
headed  practical  American.  His  sojourn  at 
Brook  Farm  may  very  well  be  credited  in 
tracing  out  the  influences  which  made  him 
what  he  was.  "  To  leave  this  pla,ce  is  to  me  a 
great  sacrifice,"  he  wrote  as  he  was  going  away. 
"  I  have  been  much  refined  by  being  here." 
Hecker  was  a  "  partial  "  boarder  when  he  first 
entered  Brook  Farm;  he  paid  four  dollars  a 
week  and  gave  his  services  as  a  baker  in  ex- 
change for  instruction  in  German,  philosophy, 
French  and  music.  Later  he  became  a  "  full  " 
boarder,  paying  for  the   greater  freedom  five 


48  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

dollars  and  a  half  a  week.  Hecker  was  of  the 
Grahamites,  while  at  the  Farm.  In  the  dining- 
room  there  was  always  one  table  of  vegetarians 
—  those  who  used  no  flesh  meats  and  generally 
no  tea  or  coffee,  who  were,  in  fact,  followers 
of  the  dietary  principles  of  Dr.  Sylvester 
Graham,  whose  name  is  still  connected  with 
bread  made  of  unbolted  flour  because  it  was  by 
him  considered  the  very  perfection  of  human 
food.  When  the  plans  for  the  Phalanstery  —  the 
large  house  which  was  destroyed  by  fire  before 
it  was  completed  —  came  to  be  made,  it  was 
decided  that  those  at  the  Graham  tables  should 
be  given  board  at  a  less  price  than  the  others, 
because  their  food  was  less  expensive. 

The  burning  of  the  Phalanstery  (March  3, 
1846)  marked  an  epoch  at  Brook  Farm.  For 
a  long  time  accommodations  had  been  insuffi- 
cient and  high  hopes  were  placed  upon  what 
might  be  accomplished  when  this  large,  roomy 
building  should  be  available  for  lodging  and 
assembly  purposes.  By  those  who  wished  to 
swing  the  Community  into  line  with  Fourier- 
ism  the  central  house  was  deemed  especially 
desirable,  and  when  it  seemed  impossible  to  get 
together  the  seven  thousand  dollars  which  had 
been  lost  through  the  fire  their  enthusiasm 
dwindled  gradually  away.  Writers  on  Brook 
Farm  are  agreed  that  the  cause  of  the  Com- 
munity's failure  was  its  advocacy  of  this  as- 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  49 

sociationist  doctrine  as  preached  by  Albert 
Brisbane,  and  that  the  occasion  to  which  dampen- 
ing of  enthusiasm  may  be  traced  is  the  burning 
of  the  Phalanstery,  the  outward  and  visible 
sign  of  Fourierism. 

When  Charles  Fourier,  the  son  of  a  French 
linen  draper,  died  in  1837,  his  theories  were  not 
well  known  in  this  country.  But  Albert  Bris- 
bane got  hold  of  them  in  England,  converted 
Horace  Greeley  to  them,  and,  through  Greeley, 
who  took  a  very  deep  and  real  interest  in  Brook 
Farm,  foisted  them  upon  the  Brook  Farm 
Community.  The  old  slander  that  Brook  Farm 
was  a  "  regular  free  love  institution "  now 
began  to  be  repeated  in  the  religious  press  as 
well  as  from  mouth  to  mouth.  And  unfor- 
tunately there  was  just  one  little  remark  which 
Fourier  had  once  made  which  could  be  inter- 
preted as  condoning  irregularity  in  some  cases. 
In  his  study  of  human  nature  he  believed  he  had 
discovered  inherently  inconstant  natures,  ex- 
ceptional men  and  women  who  cannot  be  con- 
stant to  one  idea,  one  hope  or  one  love;  and 
believing  this  inconstancy  to  be  a  normal 
trait  of  character  with  some  persons,  who  are 
exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  he  simply  ac- 
knowledged the  fact  and  speculated  on  the 
result  and  the  position  such  persons  would  have 
in  the  future  ideal  society.  "  But,"  he  said 
very   unmistakably,  "  the  man  has  no  claim 


50  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

as  discoverer  or  to  the  confidence  of  the  world, 
who  advocates  such  absurdities  as  community 
of  property,  absence  of  divine  worship  and  rash 
abolition  of  marriage."  This  would  have  been 
circumstantial  enough  for  any  unprejudiced 
writer.  But  then,  as  now,  newspapers  battened 
on  articles  in  defence  of  "  sacred  institutions  " 
nobody  has  attacked,  and  the  impression  that 
Brook  Farm  encouraged  a  laxity  of  moral  out- 
look was  not  allowed  to  die.  Of  course  this 
reacted  disastrously  upon  the  school  attendance, 
which  was  to  have  been  a  chief  source  of  income. 
Moreover,  the  industries,  which  had  latterly 
been  introduced,  did  not  flourish  as  it  had  been 
fondly  hoped  they  might.  The  nine  miles  from 
Boston  proved  too  far  to  cart  window-frames 
and  the  like  profitably  to  market. 

The  organ  of  Fourierism  in  this  country  was 
the  Harbinger,  printed  at  Brook  Farm  from 
June,  1845,  to  June,  1847.  Had  the  paper  been 
used  to  tell  the  world  the  truth  about  Brook 
Farm  instead  of  being  devoted  to  the  promulga- 
tion of  doctrines  already  obnoxious  to  many,  the 
day  might  have  been  saved  in  spite  of  the  fire. 
As  it  was,  the  Harbinger  was  fatally  associated 
with  propaganda  considered  subversive  of  the 
social  order.  From  a  literary  standpoint  it  was 
a  great  success,  however;  its  poetry  and  musical 
criticism  were  excellent,  and  the  first  number 
contained   an   admirable  translation  of  George 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  51 

Sand's  "  Consuelo,"  contributed  by  Francis 
Gould  Shaw,  a  neighbor  and  very  kind  friend 
of  the  Brook  Farmers.  Dr.  Codman  recalls  that 
Mr.  Shaw,  on  his  horse,  with  his  young  son,  a 
tiny  little  fellow,  on  a  pony  by  his  side,  often 
galloped  over  to  the  Farm  to  call.  The  "  little 
fellow"  is  now  commemorated  in  Boston's  beau- 
tiful Shaw  Memorial,  opposite  the  State  House. 

Another  West  Roxbury  neighbor  whom  those 
at  the  Farm  were  always  glad  to  welcome  was 
Theodore  Parker.  Parker  was  a  warm  friend 
of  Ripley,  and  as  he  was  then  having  troubles 
and  religious  perplexities  of  his  own  it  is  prob- 
able that  he  found  it  a  great  comfort  to  tramp 
two  miles  across  the  fields  and  talk  things 
over  with  one  who  had  been  through  the  mill. 
On  Sundays  some  members  of  the  Community 
would  usually  turn  out  to  hear  Parker  preach. 

Sunday  was  a  delightful  day  at  the  Com- 
munity. Hawthorne  has  reproduced  for  us 
something  of  its  flavor  in  his  talk  about  Eliot's 
pulpit  in  The  Blithedale  Romance,  and  Dr. 
Codman  has  given  us  a  charming  snapshot 
description  of  a  certain  occasion  when  William 
Henry  Channing  held  a  religious  service  in  the 
nearby  beautiful  pine  woods  and  his  hearers, 
like  the  Pilgrims  and  reformers  of  old,  raised 
their  voices  in  hymns  of  praise  and  listened  to 
a  sermon  of  hopefulness.  That  must  have  been 
a  thrilling  moment  when  Channing  bade  the 


52  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

assembled  company,  seated  on  the  pine-needles 
at  his  feet,  "  to  join  hands  and  make  a  circle, 
the  symbol  of  universal  unity,  and  of  the 
at-one-ment  of  all  men  and  women." 

But  life  at  Brook  Farm  was  more  than  work 
and  study  and  preaching.  Of  pure  fun  there 
was  always  a  good  deal.  As  Lindsay  Swift 
has  whimsically  put  it,  "  Enjoyment  was  almost 
from  the  first  a  serious  pursuit  of  the  Com- 
munity. It  formed  a  part  of  the  curriculum  and 
was  a  daily  habit  of  life."  Dancing  was  much 
in  vogue,  and  after  the  dishes  had  been  done 
in  the  evening  it  was  quite  the  custom  to  clear 
away  the  dining-room  tables  and  have  a  joyous 
hour  or  two.  Then  the  talk  at  meals  was  apt 
to  be  good.  The  immediate  effect  of  a  visit 
from  Alcott  was  the  direction  to  cut  pie  "  from 
the  centre  to  the  periphery,"  and  Mrs.  Howe 
avers  that  the  customary  formula  at  table  was, 
"  Is  the  butter  within  the  sphere  of  your 
influence?  " 

The  fact  that,  for  a  long  time,  there  were 
more  men  than  women  in  the  Community 
made  things  very  pleasant  for  the  girls  who 
had  housework  to  do.  George  William  Curtis 
occasionally  trimmed  lamps,  Dana  organized 
a  band  of  griddle-cake  servitors  composed  of 
four  of  the  most  elegant  youths  in  the  Com- 
munity, and  there  is  a  story  that  one  young 
fellow  confessed  his  passion  while  helping  his 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  53 

sweetheart  at  the  sink.  Of  love-making  there 
was  quite  a  little.  No  less  than  fourteen 
happy  marriages  may  be  traced  to  acquaintance 
begun  there.  Dr.  Codman  thinks  this  was  due, 
in  part,  to  the  fact  that  the  girls  in  their  neat 
costumes  —  very  like  that  afterwards  associated 
with  Mrs.  Bloomer  —  never  looked  anything 
but  attractive.  The  men  must  have  made  a 
fine  appearance,  too,  in  their  tunics  of  brown 
linen  or  Rob  Roy  flannel. 

Yet  since  the  financial  conditions  for  marriage 
were  not  inviting,  only  one  union  was  consum- 
mated at  the  Farm.  This  was  the  wedding  of 
Dwight's  sister,  Marianne,  to  John  Orvis.  Rev. 
W.  H.  Channing  tied  the  knot,  and  the  usually 
eloquent  D wight  made  a  speech  of  just  five 
words,  —  "I  like  this  making  one."  Perhaps 
he  put  his  maturer  thought  about  what  he 
felt  that  night  into  his  Harbinger  poem,  one 
verse  of  which  runs: 

"  Come,  let  us  join  hands.      Let  our  two  flames  mingle 
In  one  more  pure; 
Since  there  is  truth  in  nothing  that  is  single, 
Be  love  love's  cure." 

Twenty-five  years  had  been  more  or  less 
vaguely  set  by  the  first  Brook  Farmers  as  the 
length  of  time  which  would  be  necessary  to 
prove  their  experiment  a  real  success.  It  had 
been  going  a  fifth  of  that  period  with  ever-in- 


54  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

creasing  numbers  and  no  decrease  of  enthusiasm 
when  the  Phalanstery  burned.  A  year  after 
that  event  Mr.  Ripley  was  authorized  by  the 
creditors  and  stockholders  to  "  let  the  farm." 
The  intervening  period  covers  the  gradual 
dissolution  of  the  Community.  Quietly,  al- 
most imperceptibly,  the  members  withdrew 
into  the  big  outside  world.  Dr.  Codman  says 
there  was  "  no  sadness  of  farewell."  All  had 
the  feeling  that  they  would  some  day  be  to- 
gether again  in  another  Community  whose 
finest  building  would  not  burn  down  just  when 
things  were  at  their  best. 

The  farm  itself  passed  into  various  hands  and 
suffered  several  vicissitudes  of  fortune.  The 
Community  buildings  fell  away  one  by  one 
until  today  the  single  authentic  survival  of  that 
happy  time  is  the  structure  known  as  the  Mar- 
garet Fuller  Cottage,  perhaps  because  it  is  the 
only  house  at  which  that  famous  lady  never 
stopped  while  visiting  Brook  Farm. 

So  ends  the  story  of  this  romantic  essay  in 
socialism,  this  brave  adventure  in  brotherhood 
which  has  well  been  called  "  the  sweetest 
dream  ever  dreamed  in  America."  Shall  we 
not  in  leaving  it  repeat  the  benediction  Haw- 
thorne pronounced  upon  it:  "More  and  more 
I  feel  we  at  Brook  Farm  struck  upon  what 
ought  to  be  a  truth.  Posterity  may  dig  it  up 
and  profit  by  it." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   REAL   ZENOBIA 

THAT  Hawthorne  meant  Margaret  Fuller 
by  Zenobia  is  quite  as  certain  as  that 
he  meant  Brook  Farm  by  the  Arcady 
he  so  wonderfully  depicts  in  The  Blithedale 
Romance.  Of  course  this  is  not  to  say  that 
he  even  attempted  to  describe  Brook  Farm 
or  Margaret  Fuller  photographically  in  his 
story.  He  was  first,  last  and  always  the  great 
American  romancer.  Besides,  Margaret  was 
never  a  member  of  the  community  at  West 
Roxbury.  She  was,  indeed,  only  an  occasional 
guest  there.  Yet,  so  persistent  is  belief  in 
what  the  world  wishes  to  believe  and  so  muddled 
does  literary  history  ere  long  become  that  a 
learned  German  work  has  actually  been  written 
under  the  title  Margaret  Fuller  und  Brook 
Farm.  And  Brook  Farm  pilgrims  inquire  to 
this  day  "  for  the  pool  in  which  Margaret 
Fuller  was  drowned! " 

Whether  absent  or  present  Margaret  Fuller's 
influence    pervaded  the  place  however,  —  just 


/ 


56  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

as  her  influence  pervaded  all  the  transcendental 
aspiration  and  all  the  literary  activity  of  her 
time.1  Necessarily,  therefore,  we  must  rehearse 
her  story  in  a  book  covering  the  Boston  of  this 
period.  The  accident  that  she  was  born  in 
Cambridge,  did  her  largest  literary  work  in 
New  York  and  found  the  culmination  of  her 
life  in  Italy  makes  no  real  difference.  For  the 
best  that  Boston  people  were  and  felt  and 
thought  in  the  nineteenth  century  they  owe  — 
very  largely  —  to  Margaret  Fuller. 

Yet  Poe  called  Margaret  "  that  detestable 
old  maid,"  Carlyle  was  similarly  scathing  and 
uncomplimentary  in  his  comment  on  her,  and 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne  wrote  down  in  his  Roman 
Journal  a  sketch  of  her  character,  afterwards 
indiscreetly  published  by  his  son,  which,  if 
taken  by  itself,  would  brand  as  arrant  idiots 
all  those  wise  and  cultivated  folk  who  were 
proud  to  be  known  as  Margaret's  admiring 
friends.  For,  said  Hawthorne,  "  Margaret  Fuller 
had  a  strong  and  coarse  nature  which  she  had 
done  her  utmost  to  refine  with  infinite  pains; 
but  of  course  it  could  only  be  superficially 
changed.  .  .  .  Margaret  has  not  left  in  the 
hearts  and  minds  of  those  who  knew  her  any 
deep  witness  of  her  integrity  and  purity.     She 

1  "  Her  personality  never  ceased  to  hover  about  Concord,  even 
after  her  death,"  wrote  Rose  Hawthorne  Lathrop.  "  She  is  a 
part  of  its  fascination." 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  57 

was  a  great  humbug  —  of  course  with  much 
talent  and  moral  reality,  or  else  she  could 
never  have  been  so  great  a  humbug.  .  .  . 
Towards  the  last  there  appears  to  have  been 
a  total  collapse  in  poor  Margaret,  morally 
and  intellectually;  and  tragic  as  her  catas- 
trophe was,  Providence  was  after  all  kind  in 
putting  her  and  her  clownish  husband  and  her 
child  on  board  that  fated  ship." 

Julian  Hawthorne,  certainly,  was  not  kind 
in  giving  to  the  public  (in  1884)  this  unflattering 
estimate  of  a  woman,  long  dead.  Happily, 
though,  Margaret  had  still  surviving  several 
friends  who  were  eager  and  able  to  set  her 
right  with  the  world.  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
who  had  been  one  of  her  intimates,  promptly 
published  in  the  Independent  an  account  of 
her  relations  with  the  Hawthornes  which  makes 
one  feel  very  sure  that  the  great  romancer 
intended  only  for  his  private  note-book  this 
estimate  of  one  to  whom  he  had  been  a  friend.1 
His  gentle  wife  really  loved  Margaret  and  he 
gave  the  appearance  of  doing  so.  As  witness 
this  letter  written  by  Miss  Sophia  Peabody 
just  before  her  marriage  to  Hawthorne:2 

1  Dr.  Clarke's  article  embodied,  also,  the  suggestion  of  one  of 
Hawthorne's  intimates  that  the  paragraph  in  the  Roman  Journal 
was  really  a  sketch  for  a  future  imaginative  character  and 
not  meant  to  be  taken,  as  it  too  often  has  been,  for  Haw- 
thorne's secret  feeling  about  Margaret  Fuller  and  her  claims. 

2  Quoted  by  J.  F.  Clarke  in  the  Independent. 


58  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

"Dear  Most  Noble  Margaret:  —  I  have 
now  something  to  tell  you  which  I  know  will 
give  you  great  pleasure.  The  decision  was  not 
made  till  last  evening;  and  I  feel  that  you  are 
entitled,  through  our  love  and  profound  regard 
for  you,  to  be  told  directly.  Mr.  Hawthorne  — 
in  plain  words  the  splendor  of  the  world  — 
and  I  are  going  to  dwell  in  Concord  at  Dr. 
Ripley's  old  manse.  .  .  .  We  shall  be  married 
in  June,  the  month  of  roses  and  of  perfect 
bloom. 

"  Mr.  Hawthorne,  last  evening,  in  the  midst 
of  his  emotions,  so  deep  and  absorbing,  after 
deciding,  said  that  Margaret  can  now,  when 
she  visits  Mr.  Emerson,  spend  part  of  the 
time  with  us.  .  .  . 

"  Your  very  true  and  loving  friend 

"  Sophia." 

If  Hawthorne  had  always  disliked  Margaret 
Fuller,  as  his  son  Julian  contends,  he  would 
scarcely  have  paused,  in  the  ecstasy  of  betrothal, 
to  make  plans  that  she  should  visit  at  his 
future  home.  Moreover,  the  following  passage 
in  his  American  Note-Booh  1  shows  that  their 
relations  actually  turned  out  to  be  those  of 
capital  friends:  "  After  leaving  Mr.  Emerson's 
I  returned  through  the  woods,  and  entering 
Sleepy   Hollow,   I   perceived   a   lady   reclining 

1  American  Note-Books,  I,  221. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  59 

near  the  path  which  bends  along  its  verge.  It 
was  Margaret  herself.  She  had  been  there  the 
whole  afternoon  meditating  or  reading,  for  she 
had  a  book  in  her  hand  with  some  strange  title 
which  I  did  not  understand  and  have  forgotten. 
She  said  that  nobody  had  broken  her  solitude, 
and  was  just  giving  utterance  to  a  theory  that 
no  inhabitant  of  Concord  ever  visited  Sleepy 
Hollow,  when  we  saw  a  group  of  people  entering 
the  sacred  precincts.  Most  of  them  followed 
a  path  which  led  them  away  from  us;  but  an 
old  man  passed  near  us,  and  smiled  to  see 
Margaret  reclining  on  the  ground  and  me 
standing  by  her  side.  He  made  some  remark 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  afternoon,  and  withdrew 
himself  into  the  shadow  of  the  wood.  Then  we 
talked  about  autumn,  and  about  the  pleasures 
of  being  lost  in  the  woods,  and  about  the  crows 
whose  voices  Margaret  had  heard;  and  about 
the  experiences  of  early  childhood  whose  in- 
fluence remains  upon  the  character  after  the 
recollection  of  them  has  passed  away;  and 
about  the  sight  of  mountains  from  a  distance, 
and  the  view  from  their  summits;  and  about 
other  matter  of  high  and  low  philosophy." 
One  does  not  talk  of  these  things  a  long  summer 
afternoon  through  with  a  person  whom  one 
does  not  at  least  like. 

Yet  Margaret  Fuller  had  a  side  to  her  nature 
with  which  Hawthorne  could  only  coolly  sympa- 


60  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

thize  at  best.  She  was  a  superb  lover!  Of  her 
culture  much  has  been  written.  Of  her  ex- 
traordinary conversational  gifts  the  descriptions 
have  been  so  manifold  and  so  awe-inspiring 
as  quite  sufficiently  to  have  prejudiced  against 
her  the  many  who  hate  "  haranguing  women." 
But  only  in  Higginson's  biography  of  her  is 
any  emphasis  laid  upon  her  passionate  love 
of  humanity.  And  even  there  this  phase  is 
merely  touched  upon  in  passing  because  the 
task  which  had  been  set  for  the  writer  (in  the 
American  Men  of  Letters  Series)  was  that  of 
studying  Margaret  Fuller  as  a  literary  woman. 
Loving  service  was,  however,  far  more  the 
expression  of  her  inmost  personality  than  was 
writing  or  the  pursuit  of  that  culture  with  which 
she  is  chiefly  associated  by  her  contemporaries. 
Had  this  not  been  the  case  she  would  never 
have  stood  by  the  side  of  Mazzini,  as  she  did 
in  Italy's  pitiful  struggle  for  independence; 
nor  would  young  patriots,  dying  in  the  hospital, 
have  called  for  her  that  they  might  clasp  her 
hands  and  cry  "  Viva  l'ltalia "  with  their 
expiring  breath.  At  the  very  moment  indeed 
when  Lowell  was  satirizing  her  in  his  Fable 
for  Critics  as  one  who 

"...  will  take  an  old  notion  and  make  it  her  own 
By  saying  it  o'er  in  her  Sibylline  tone, 
Or  persuade  you  'tis  something  tremendously  deep 
By  repeating  it  so  as  to  put  you  to  sleep," 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  61 

she  was  leading  the  life  of  heroic  action  for  which 
she  had  long  been  yearning. 

Margaret  Fuller  was  born,  May  23,  1810,  in 
a  house  on  Cherry  Street,  Cambridgeport,  which 
is  still  standing.  She  was  drowned,  with  her 
husband  and  child,  off  the  coast  of  Fire  Island 
soon  after  she  had  passed  her  fortieth  birth- 
day and  when  her  real  work  in  the  world  had 
only  just  begun.  Yet  the  impress  of  her 
personality  was  such,  and  her  book,  Woman 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century  so  remarkably  pro- 
phetic, that  hers  may  well  be  regarded  as  the 
most  successful  woman-life  of  her  century, 
with  the  single  exception  of  that  which  gave 
to  the  world  the  slave-freeing  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin. 

As  a  child  she  was  subjected  by  her  father  to 
a  forcing-house  system  of  education  which,  as 
she  herself  has  said,  "  made  her  a  youthful 
prodigy  by  day  and,  by  night,  a  victim  of  spec- 
tral illusions,  nightmare  and  somnambulism." 
As  one  reads  her  journal  one's  heart  aches  with 
pity  for  the  little  girl  who,  having  recited  Virgil 
to  her  father,  late  in  the  evening,  dreamed, 
when  she  came  to  sleep,  of  horses  trampling 
over  her  and  of  trees  that  dripped  with  blood. 
Yet  Virgil,  Horace  and  Ovid  were  early  num- 
bered among  her  dear  friends  "  and  reading 
became  a  habit  and  a  passion."  Shakespeare, 
too,  soon  claimed  her  devotion,  the  first  play 


62  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

she  assimilated  being  that  which  tells  the  tragic 
tale  of  two  young  people  in  Verona. 

How  largely  the  appeal  which  Romeo  and 
Juliet  made  to  this  child  was  due  to  the 
impassioned  love  lines  we  are  not  told;  but 
since  Margaret  Fuller  was  a  very  ardent  creature 
and  was  soon  to  experience  the  first  love  of 
her  young  life,  there  is  little  question  that  this 
aspect  of  the  drama  must  have  moved. her  pro- 
foundly. All  her  life  long  she  loved  many 
people  with  a  deep  absorbing  devotion  which, 
as  she  herself  has  said,  "  lavished  away  her 
strength."  After  a  lapse  of  many  years,  she 
wrote  of  her  first  friend:  "  My  thoughts  were 
fixed  on  her  with  all  the  force  of  my  nature. 
It  was  my  first  real  interest  in  my  kind  and  it 
engrossed  me  wholly.  ..."  She  was  twelve  at 
the  time. 

Two  inexorable  descriptions  of  the  maiden 
Margaret  have  come  down  to  us.  One  sets 
her  before  us  as  she  appeared  at  the  ball  given 
by  her  father  to  President  Adams :  a  young  girl 
of  sixteen  "  with  a  very  plain  face,  half  shut 
eyes  and  hair  curled  all  over  her  head;  she  was 
laced  so  tightly,  by  reason  of  stoutness,  that 
she  had  to  hold  her  arms  back  as  if  they  were 
pinioned;  she  was  dressed  in  a  badly  cut,  low 
necked  pink  silk,  with  white  muslin  over  it; 
and  she  danced  quadrilles  very  awkwardly, 
being   withal    so   near-sighted    that   she   could 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  63 

hardly  see  her  partner."  Again,  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  with  whose  class  she  may  be  said  to 
have  "  danced  through  college  "  —  to  quote 
Howells'  phrase,  —  tells  us  graphically  of  her 
"  long  and  flexile  neck,  arching  and  undulating 
in  strange,  sinuous  movements,  which  one  who 
loved  her  would  compare  to  a  swan,  and  one 
who  loved  her  not  to  those  of  the  ophidian  who 
tempted  our  common  mother." 

There  were  always  many  who  loved  Margaret 
Fuller  and  many  who  loved  her  not.  No  woman 
ever  inspired  such  deep  feelings  both  of  attrac- 
tion and  of  dislike.  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
writing  of  Margaret  and  her  friendships,  says 
that  the  persons  she  might  most  wish  to  know 
often  retired  from  her  and  avoided  her.  But 
she  was  "  sagacious  of  her  quarry  "  and  never 
suffered  herself  to  be  repelled  by  this.  She  saw 
when  anyone  belonged  to  her  and  never  rested 
until  she  came  into  possession  of  her  property. 
This  is  so  reminiscent  of  certain  passages  in 
Emerson's  essay  on  Friendship  that  it  seems 
natural  to  remark,  just  at  this  point,  that  the 
Sage  of  Concord  was  one  of  Margaret's  most 
true  and  devoted  friends. 

"  I  became  acquainted  with  her,"  he  writes, 
"  in  1835  .  .  .  when  she  came  to  spend  a 
fortnight  with  my  wife.  I  still  remember  the 
first  half  hour  of  her  conversation.  She  was 
then  twenty-six  years  old.    She  had  a  face  and 


64  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

frame  that  would  indicate  fulness  and  tenacity 
of  life.  She  was  rather  under  the  middle  height; 
her  complexion  was  fair  with  strong  fair  hair. 
She  was  then,  as  always,  carefully  and  becom- 
ingly dressed  and  of  lady-like  self-possession. 
For  the  rest,  her  appearance  had  nothing  pre- 
possessing. Her  extreme  plainness  —  a  trick 
of  incessantly  opening  and  shutting  her  eyelids, 
—  the  nasal  tone  of  her  voice,  —  all  repelled; 
and  I  said  to  myself,  we  shall  never  get  far." 

Yet  they  became  dear  and  lifelong  friends, 
writing  to  each  other  constantly  and  passing 
long  afternoons  in  the  close  intimacy  of  kindred 
minds  during  her  frequent  and  protracted  visits 
to  Concord.  Emerson  was  seven  years  her 
senior  and  very  grave.  Yet  to  him,  rather 
oddly,  Margaret  showed  herself  a  wit;  of  all 
the  people  who  have  written  of  her  he  alone 
points  out  that  she  possessed  a  huge  fund  of 
anecdotes  and  drolleries  and  that  what  most 
call  satire  in  her  was  really  due  only  to  a  super- 
abundance of  animal  spirits.  He  was  very 
proud  to  become  her  close  friend,  for  he  says, 
"  she  had  drawn  to  her  every  superior  young 
man  or  young  woman  she  had  met.  .  .  . 

"  When  I  first  knew  her,"  he  continues,  "  she 
wore  this  circle  of  friends  as  a  necklace  of  dia- 
monds about  her  neck.  .  .  .  The  confidences 
given  her  were  their  best  and  she  held  them 
to  them.    She  was  an  active  inspiring  companion 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  65 

and  correspondent,  and  all  the  art,  the  thought 
and  the  nobleness  in  New  England  seemed  at 
that  moment  related  to  her  and  she  to  it.  She 
was  everywhere  a  welcome  guest.  The  houses 
of  her  friends  in  town  and  country  were  open 
to  her  and  every  hospitable  attention  eagerly 
offered.  Her  arrival  was  a  holiday.  ...  Of 
personal  influence  she  had,  I  think,  more  than 
any  other  person  I  ever  knew." 

Margaret  Fuller  honestly  believed  that  not 
only  between  men  and  women  can  there  be 
deep,  passionate  love.  Witness  the  following 
passages  from  her  journal  and  her  letters: 
"  At  Mr.  G's  we  looked  over  prints  the  whole 
evening.  Nothing  fixed  my  attention  so  much 
as  a  large  engraving  of  Madame  R^camier  in 
her  boudoir.  I  have  often  thought  over  the 
intimacy  between  her  and  Madame  De  Stael. 
It  is  so  true  that  a  woman  may  be  in  love  with 
a  woman  and  a  man  with  a  man.    I  like  to  be 

sure  of   it,  .  .  .  for   I   loved for  a  time 

with  as  much  passion  as  I  was  then  strong 
enough  to  feel.  Her  face  was  always  gleaming 
before  me.  ...  I  do  not  love  her  now  with 
passion,  but  I  still  feel  towards  her  as  I  can  to  no 
other  woman.  I  thought  of  all  this  as  I  looked 
at  Madame  Re'camier." 

While  sustaining  all  this  remarkable  current 
of  affection  Margaret  was  earning  her  living  in 
the  only  way  then  open  to  women  —  by  school- 


66  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

teaching.  Her  father  had  died  and  there  was  a 
brood  of  young  brothers  to  be  educated.  She 
was  very  glad,  therefore,  to  avail  herself  of  the 
chance  which  came  to  her,  through  Emerson, 
to  teach  (1836)  in  the  school  which  Bronson 
Alcott  had  opened  in  Boston,  in  a  part  of  the  big 
stone  building  on  that  corner  of  Temple  Place 
now  for  several  years  past  given  over  to  the 
R.  H.  Stearns  Company  for  their  headquarters. 
She  was  a  welcome  guest  at  the  choicest  parties  of 
which  Boston  could  boast,  and  we  are  indebted 
to  her  for  this  picture  of  the  "  society  "  of  the  day. 
"  Last  night  I  took  my  boldest  peep  into  the 
'  Gigman  '  world  of  Boston.  I  had  not  been  to 
a  large  party  before,  and  had  only  seen  said  world 
in  half -boots.  So  I  thought,  as  it  was  an 
occasion  in  which  I  felt  real  interest,  to  wit,  a 
fete  given  by  Mrs.  Thorndike  for  my  beautiful 
Susan,  I  would  look  at  it  for  once  in  satin 
slippers.  Dr.  Channing  meant  to  go  but  was  too 
weary  when  the  hour  came.  I  spent  the  early 
part  of  the  evening  in  reading  bits  of  Dante 
with  him  and  talking  about  the  material  sublime 
till  half -past  nine,  when  I  went  with  Mrs.  C. 
and  graceful  Mary. 

"  It  was  very  pretty  to  look  at.  So  many 
fair  maidens  dressed  as  if  they  had  stepped  out 
of  their  grandmothers'  picture  frames,  and 
youths  with  their  long  locks,  suitable  to  repre- 
sent pages  if  not  nobles.     Signor  Figaro  was 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  67 

there  also.  .  .  .  And  Daniel  the  Great  (Web- 
ster), not  however,  when  I  saw  him,  engaged 
in  an  operation  peculiarly  favorable  to  his 
style  of  beauty,  to  wit,  eating  oysters.  Theo- 
dore Parker  was  there,  and  introduced  to  me. 
I  had  some  pleasant  talk  with  him,  but  before 
I  could  get  to  Spinoza,  somebody  seized  on 
me  and  carried  me  off  to  quite  another  S,  — 
to  supper.  On  the  whole,  it  all  pleased  my  eye; 
my  fashionable  fellow-creatures  were  very  civil 
to  me,  and  I  went  home  glad  to  have  looked  at 
this  slide  in  the  magic  lantern  also." 

A  form  of  dissipation  much  more  in  Mar- 
garet's line  than  fancy-dress  balls  were  the 
meetings  of  the  Transcendental  Club  and 
the  famous  "  Conversations "  which  began 
(November  6,  1839)  at  the  rooms  on  West 
Street  where  Miss  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody  main- 
tained at  this  time  a  circulating  library  and 
foreign  bookshop.  This  place  had  become  a 
kind  of  Transcendental  Exchange  where  many 
who  had  no  thought  of  purchasing  books 
dropped  in  for  the  sheer  delight  that  it  was  to 
"  talk  of  many  things"  with  the  keen-witted 
little  lady  who  was  the  proprietor  of  the  shop.1 
No  better  setting  could  have  been  devised  for  the 
proposed  classes,  subscriptions  to  which  were  ob- 
tained through  the  circuTation  of  a  letter  setting 

1  The  idea  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples  first  occurred  to  Dr. 
Clarke  in  this  room. 


68  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

forth  "  the  advantages  of  a  weekly  meeting  for 
conversation  "  in  a  class  which  should  "  supply  a 
point  of  union  to  well-educated  and  thinking 
women,  in  a  city,  which,  with  great  pretensions 
to  mental  refinement,  boasts  at  present  nothing 
of  the  kind." 

Twenty -five  cultivated  Boston  women  were 
present  at  the  first  meeting  of  Miss  Fuller's 
class,  which  soon  grew  to  be  a  famous  Boston 
institution,  meeting  weekly  for  five  winters 
to  consider  everything  from  vanity  to  soci- 
ology. The  sessions  opened  at  eleven  in  the 
morning,  ten  or  a  dozen,  besides  the  leader, 
usually  taking  active  part  in  the  talk.  The 
leader's  own  account  of  the  first  days,  as  sent 
to  Emerson  and  by  him  quoted  in  the  Mem- 
oirs  of  Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli,  is  as  follows: 

"  25th  November,  1839.  —  My  class  is  pros- 
perous. I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  rouse  at  once 
the  tone  of  simple  earnestness,  which  can 
scarcely,  when  once  awakened,  cease  to  vibrate." 

No  reports  of  the  "  Conversations "  are 
extant,  but  this  sprightly  picture  of  the  eighth 
meeting,  as  sent  by  one  who  was  there  to  a 
friend  in  New  Haven,  is  very  pleasantly  illumi- 
nating: "  Christmas  made  a  holiday  for  Miss 
Fuller's  class,  but  it  met  on  Saturday  at  noon. 
.  .  .  Margaret,  beautifully  dressed  (don't  de- 
spise that,  for  it  made  a  fine  picture) ,  presided 
with  more  dignity  and  grace  than  I  had  thought 


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IN    OLD    BOSTON  69 

possible.  The  subject  was  Beauty.  Each  had 
written  her  definition  and  Margaret  began  with 
reading  her  own.  This  called  forth  questions, 
comments  and  illustrations  on  all  sides.  The 
style  and  manner,  of  course,  in  this  are  different, 
but  the  question,  the  high  point  from  which  it 
was  considered,  and  the  earnestness  and  sim- 
plicity of  the  discussion  as  well  as  the  gifts  and 
graces  of  the  speakers,  gave  it  the  charm  of  a 
Platonic  dialogue.  There  was  no  pretension 
of  pedantry  in  a  word  that  was  said.  The  tone 
of  remark  and  question  was  simple  as  that  of 
children  in  a  school  class;  and,  I  believe,  every 
one  was  satisfied." 

Not  quite  everyone;  not  Harriet  Martineau, 
for  instance,  whom  Margaret  had  come  to  know 
through  her  friend  Mrs.  John  Farrar,  and  to 
whom,  upon  the  publication  of  the  book, 
Society  in  America,  Margaret  protested  that 
undue  emphasis  had  there  been  placed  upon 
the  anti-slavery  movement.  This  Miss  Mar- 
tineau appears  to  have  resented,  for  when  she 
came  to  write  her  Autobiography,  she  incor- 
porated in  the  work  the  following  utterly 
unfair  criticism  of  the  "  Conversations : "  "  The 
difference  between  us  [Margaret  and  herself]  was 
that  while  she  was  living  and  moving  in  an 
ideal  world,  talking  in  private  and  discoursing 
in  public  about  the  most  fanciful  and  shallow 
conceits  which  the  Transcendentalists  of  Boston 


70  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

took  for  philosophy,  she  looked  down  upon 
persons  who  acted  instead  of  talking  finely, 
and  devoted  their  fortunes,  their  peace,  their 
repose  and  their  very  lives  to  the  preservation 
of  the  principles  of  the  republic.  While  Mar- 
garet Fuller  and  her  adult  pupils  sat '  gorgeously 
dressed  '  talking  about  Mars  and  Venus,  Plato 
and  Goethe,  and  fancying  themselves  the  elect 
of  the  earth  in  intellect  and  refinement,  the 
liberties  of  the  republic  were  running  out  as 
fast  as  they  could  go,  at  a  breach  which 
another  sort  of  elect  persons  were  devoting 
themselves  to  repair;  and  my  complaint  against 
the  '  gorgeous  '  pedants  was  that  they  regarded 
their  preservers  as  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers 
of  water,  and  their  work  as  a  less  vital  one  than 
the  pedantic  orations  which  were  spoiling  a 
set  of  well-meaning  women  in  a  pitiable  way." 
Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  women  in  the 
West  Street  classes  were  almost  identically  the 
same  women  of  whom  Miss  Martineau  here 
speaks  as  "  another  sort  of  elect  persons." 
The  wives  of  Emerson  and  Parker,  the  only 
daughter  of  Channing,  Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child, 
Mrs.  Ellis  Gray  Loring,  and  the  lady  who  after- 
wards became  Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney,  were 
among  those  who  sat  at  Margaret's  feet.  And 
they  were  all  ardent  workers  for  the  cause  of 
anti-slavery!  It  was  the  office  of  Margaret 
Fuller  to  stimulate  these  women  morally  and 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  71 

mentally,  not  so  much,  however,  by  the  dis- 
cussion of  a  concrete  evil  then  existing  in 
the  world  as  by  deepened  appreciation  of  all 
that  is  beautiful  in  art,  in  literature  and  in 
life. 

One  aged  lady  still  living,  who  belonged  to 
the  conversation  class,  has  said  that  the  in- 
fluence of  their  leader's  sympathy  upon  the 
thoughts  and  hopes  of  those  before  her  was  so 
great  that,  metaphorically  speaking,  the  lame 
walked  and  the  blind  received  their  sight.  And 
Mrs.  Cheney  spoke  to  me,  very  enthusiastically, 
shortly  before  her  death,  a  few  years  ago,  of 
all  that  Margaret  Fuller  had  meant  to  her  — 
and  to  many  since. 

"  Her  most  distinguishing  characteristic,  next 
to  her  love  of  love,"  she  said,  "  was  her  personal 
magnetism.  I  myself  first  came  under  her 
spell  when  she  began  to  hold  her  '  Conversa- 
tions.' I  was  eager  enough  for  any  intellectual 
advantage,  but  I  had  imbibed  with  the  thought- 
lessness of  a  school  girl  the  common  prejudices 
against  Miss  Fuller. 

"  So,  though  I  believed  that  I  should  learn 
from  her,  I  had  no  idea,  when  I  joined  her 
class  with  thirty  or  forty  others,  that  I  should 
esteem,  and  much  more,  love  her.  She  was 
about  twenty-five  at  the  time  I  came  under 
her  influence,  and  I  was,  I  think,  sixteen  or 
so. 


72  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

"  The  class  used  to  meet  in  the  morning,  and 
she  would  talk  gloriously  on  whatever  subject, 
perhaps  Greek  literature,  she  had  set  herself 
for  that  day.  I  early  found  myself  in  a  new 
world  of  thought;  a  flood  of  light  irradiated  all 
that  I  had  seen  in  nature,  observed  in  life,  or 
read  in  books. 

"  Whatever  she  spoke  of  revealed  a  hidden 
meaning,  and  everything  seemed  to  be  put  in 
true  relation.  Her  influence  might  be  best 
expressed  by  saying  that  I  was  no  longer  the 
limitation  of  myself,  but  I  felt  that  the  whole 
work  of  the  universe  was  open  to  me.  It  was 
this  consciousness  of  the  divinity  in  the  soul, 
so  real  to  Margaret  herself,  which  gave  her  that 
air  of  regal  superiority  which  was  misinterpreted 
as  conceit. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  best  give  you  an  idea  of 
what  she  was  to  me  by  an  answer  which  I  made 
to  her.  One  day,  when  she  was  alone  with  me, 
and  it  is  as  if  I  could  now  feel  her  touch  and 
hear  her  voice,  she  said,  '  Is  life  rich  to  you?  ' 
And  I  replied,  '  It  is  since  I  have  known  you.' 
Such  was  the  response  of  many  a  youthful  heart 
to  her,  and  herein  was  her  wonderful  influence. 
She  did  not  make  us  her  disciples,  her  blind 
followers.  She  opened  the  book  of  life  and 
helped  us  to  read  it  for  ourselves.  Her  intel- 
lectuality was  pronounced,  of  course.  Neither 
this   country  nor  any   other  has   ever  had,  I 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  73 

believe,   a  woman  of  such   transcendent  con- 
versational power. 

"  But  she  was  even  more  heart  than  mind. 
It  is  her  heart,  indeed,  her  intense  sympathy 
with  young  women,  and  her  close  knowledge 
of  all  that  may  come  to  them  of  trial  and  temp- 
tation, that  explains  her  hold  today  upon  the 
women  of  this  country.  There  are  Margaret 
Fuller  clubs  and  Ossoli  circles  all  over  this 
country,  you  know. 

'  This  is  the  year  of  Emerson's  centenary, 
and  his  influence  upon  the  intellectual  life  of 
this  country  is  being  everywhere  exalted,  and 
properly.  But  I  would  venture  the  opinion  that 
Emerson,  great  as  he  undoubtedly  is,  is  not 
loved  by  nearly  so  many  people  as  love  Margaret 
Fuller,  who  was  in  a  way  his  contemporary, 
and  who  was  certainly  his  friend. 

"  The  last  time  I  went  west  to  lecture,  people 
in  the  mast  unexpected  places,  in  Dubuque 
and  other  such  cities,  used  to  come  to  me  and 
say,  '  Can't  you  tell  me  something  about  Mar- 
garet Fuller?  You  knew  her,'  they  say.  s  We 
only  know  of  her.  Tell  us,  then,  of  her  per- 
sonality, her  real  self.' 

"  I  told  these  people  what  I  always  say  of 
Margaret,  that  her  strength  lay  in  her  per- 
sonality; nothing  that  adequately  represents 
her  power  remains  in  her  writing.  Any  one 
who  ever  came   near   to   her   grew   very  fond 


74  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

of  her.  Her  tenderness  seems  to  me  her  most 
remarkable  characteristic,  and  of  that  com- 
paratively little  is  known." 

At  the  same  time  that  the  Conversations 
were  doing  their  excellent  work  to  stimulate 
morally,  as  well  as  mentally,  the  young  women 
of  Boston,  Margaret  Fuller  was  the  prime  agent 
in  bringing  out  The  Dial,  the  organ  of  the 
Transcendental  Club  to  which  allusion  has 
already  been  made. 

Emerson  wrote  the  introduction  to  the  first 
number  and  Margaret  Fuller  the  article  on 
"  Critics  "  and  that  bearing  the  caption,  "  A1I- 
ston  Gallery."  For  two  years  she  was  not  only 
the  editor  of  the  sheet  but  the  alert  and  resource- 
ful "  filler-in  "  of  all  space  left  vacant  at  the 
eleventh  hour.  Nominally  she  drew  a  salary 
of  two  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  all  this; 
actually,  however,  she  got  little  or  nothing. 
Later  Emerson  took  the  editorial  responsibility, 
and,  after  four  years  of  precarious  fortune, 
The  Dial  expired.  Apart  from  the  romantic 
associations  with  which  its  young  life  was  bound 
up  it  is  interesting  today  chiefly  because  it 
first  gave  to  the  world,  in  its  issue  of  July, 
1843,  Margaret  Fuller's  essay  which  we  now 
know,  in  book  form,  under  the  title,  Woman 
In  the  Nineteenth  Century.  This  article  might 
almost  have  been  written  for  one  of  the  ad- 
vanced feminist  magazines  of  our  day,  so  extraor- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  75 

dinarily  fresh  is  it  in  tone  and  so  nobly  does 
it  present  the  innate  right  of  woman  to  real 
fulness  of  life.  Because  the  book  is  rather  in- 
accessible I  want  to  quote  here  a  few  of  its  pro- 
phetic passages: 

"  Whether  much  or  little  has  been  done  or 
will  be  done,  [by  broadly  educated  women], 
whether  women  will  add  to  the  talent  of  narra- 
tion the  power  of  systematizing,  whether  they 
will  carve  marble  as  well  as  draw  and  paint 
is  not  important.  But  that  it  should  be  acknowl- 
edged that  they  have  intellects  which  need 
developing,  that  they  should  not  be  considered 
complete  if  beings  of  affection  and  habit  alone, 
is  important.  Yet  even  this  acknowledgment, 
rather  conquered  by  woman  than  proffered 
by  man,  has  been  sullied  by  the  usual  selfishness. 
So  much  is  said  of  women  being  better  educated 
that  they  may  become  better  companions  and 
mothers  for  men.  They  should  be  fit  for  such 
companionship.  .  .  .  But  a  being  of  infinite 
scope  must  not  be  treated  with  an  exclusive 
view  to  any  one  relation."  And  then  she  quotes 
with  approval,  "  We  must  have  units  before 
we  can  have  union."  After  which  she  goes 
on  to  point  out  that  she  is  urging  the  greater 
independence  of  women  not  because  she  dis- 
believes in  marriage  but  because  she  believes  in 
it  profoundly. 

"  I  wish  woman  to  live  first  for  God's  sake," 


76  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

she  explains.  "  Then  she  will  not  make  an 
imperfect  man  her  god  and  thus  sink  to  idolatry. 
Then  she  will  not  take  what  is  not  fit  for  her 
from  a  sense  of  weakness  and  poverty.  Then, 
if  she  finds  what  she  needs  in  man  embodied, 
she  will  know  how  to  love  and  be  worthy  of 
being  loved.  Woman,  self-centred,  would  never 
be  absorbed  by  any  relation;  it  would  be  only 
an  experience  to  her  as  to  man.  It  is  a  vulgar 
error  that  love,  a  love  is  to  woman  her  whole 
existence.  She  also  is  born  for  Truth  and  Love 
in  their  universal  energy." 

How  far  did  Margaret  Fuller  measure  up  to 
her  own  high  ideals  in  this  matter  of  woman's 
relation  to  man?  Did  she,  whom  we  have  seen 
to  be  one  of  the  most  ardently  affectionate 
natures  of  her  time,  steadfastly  keep  herself 
only  for  the  highest  kind  of  love?  In  her  journal 
we  find  her  profoundest  feeling  about  this  whole 
matter:  "  No  one  loves  me.  But  I  love  many 
a  good  deal  and  see  some  way  into  their  eventual 
beauty.  I  am  myself  growing  better  and  shall 
by  and  by  be  a  worthy  object  of  love,  one* that 
will  not  anywhere  disappoint  or  need  forbear- 
ance. ...  I  have  no  child,  and  the  woman  in 
me  has  so  craved  this  experience  that  it  has 
seemed  the  want  of  it  must  paralyze  me.  .  .  . 
I   cannot   always   upbear   my   life   all   alone." 

Why  had  she  never  married?  Among  the 
many  men  with  whom  she  was  on  warm  friendly 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  77 

relations  was  there  no  man  who  cared  for  her 
supremely  and  for  whom  she  could  care?  Her 
niece  has  told  me  of  a  clever  young  Portland 
lawyer  who  might  have  been  the  man.  But 
the  first  real  evidence  that  we  have  of  such  love 
in  her  as  she  would  have  wished  to  give  the 
man  she  might  marry  is  to  be  found  in  the 
letters  to  James  Nathan,  whom  she  met  very 
soon  after  her  removal  to  New  York  (in 
December,  1844)  for  the  purpose  of  connecting 
herself  with  Horace  Greeley  and  his  Tribune. 
Young  Nathan  was  a  Jew  and  it  was  this 
fact,  very  likely,  which  prevented  his  marriage 
to  the  woman  to  whom  he  undoubtedly  made 
passionate  love  and  from  whom  this  love  drew 
forth  as  noble  love-letters  as  ever  were  sent  to 
a  man  by  a  woman.  But  the  letters  should  not 
have  been  published  and  would  not  have  been 
had  Nathan  returned  them  to  their  writer  as 
she  asked  him  to  do  after  she  learned  of  his 
approaching  alliance  with  one  of  his  own  race. 
That  Margaret  suffered  a  great  deal  while  this 
love  ran  its  troubled  course  is  evident  in  almost 
every  line  of  the  letters.  "  You  tell  me  to  rest, 
mein  Leibster,"  one  passage  towards  the  end 
of  the  correspondence  runs,  "  but  how  can  I 
rest  when  you  rouse  in  me  so  many  thoughts  and 
feelings?  What  good  does  it  do  for  you  to  stay 
away  when,  absent  or  present,  every  hour 
you  grow  upon  me  and  the  root  strikes  to  my 


78  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

inmost  life?  There  is  far  more  repose  in  being 
with  you  when  your  look  fills  my  eye  and  your 
voice  my  ear,  than  in  trying  to  keep  still,  for 
then  these  endless  thoughts  rush  upon  me. 
And  then  comes,  too,  that  tormenting  sense 
that  only  a  few  days  more  shall  we  be  together, 
and  how  can  I  rest?  "  x  So  much  did  Margaret 
the  wise  care  for  this  man  that  she  even  liked 
to  have  him  call  her  a  fool!  "I  don't  know 
that  any  words  from  your  mouth  gave  me  more 
pleasure,"  she  writes,  "  than  these,  '  You  must 
be  a  fool,  little  girl.'  It  seems  so  whimsical 
that  they  should  be  addressed  to  me,  who  was 
called  on  for  wisdom  and  dignity,  long  before 
my  leading  strings  were  off." 

And  yet,  though  he  had  "  approached  her, 
personally,  nearer  than  any  other  person " 
and  had  "  touched  her  heart  and  thrilled  it  at 
the  centre,"  that  heart  as  she  proudly  points 
out,  "  is  a  large  kingdom."  She  would  not  let 
him  or  any  man  spoil  her  life.  The  last  letter 
in  the  series  is  dated  July  14,  1846.  By  the 
fall  of  that  year  the  relation  between  the  two 
had  been  definitively  broken  and,  with  one  or 
two  significant  allusions  in  her  diary,2  Margaret 
dismisses  the  whole  matter.  As  for  Nathan, 
he   wedded   his   coreligionist   and   had   several 

1  Reprinted  from  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller,  Copyright, 
1903,  by  D.  Appleton  and  Company. 

2  These  allusions  are  in  French  and  may  be  examined  at  the 
Cambridge  Public  Library  which  now  owns  the  Diary. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  79 

children,  dying  peacefully  (in  1889)  in  his  own 
home  at  Hamburg,  a  very  rich  but  blind  old 
man.  W.  H.  Channing,  Margaret's  biographer, 
once  saw  the  letters  and  suggested,  as  he 
returned  them  to  their  owner,  that  perhaps 
it  would  be  well  to  destroy  them.  But  the  one 
to  whom  they  had  been  written  thought  other- 
wise and,  in  the  summer  of  1873,  he  wrote  for 
them  the  preface  which  was  used  when  the 
correspondence  was  published  by  his  son  fifteen 
years  after  his  death. 

It  appears  to  have  been  the  rebound  from 
this  unhappy  love  affair  which  precipitated 
Margaret  Fuller  into  the  alliance  in  which, 
at  last,  her  hungry  heart  found  abundant  solace. 
She  sailed  from  Boston  in  August,  1846,  to 
enjoy  with  friends  a  long-deferred  period  of 
European  travel,  in  the  course  of  which  she 
met  Wordsworth,  Mazzini,  Carlyle,  George 
Sand  and  many  other  literary  celebrities.  In 
Venice  she  parted  with  the  friends  who  had 
thus  far  been  her  companions,  and  returned  to 
settle  in  Rome  and  work  for  the  cause  of  revolu- 
tionary Italy.  To  Emerson  she  wrote  that  she 
had  at  last  found  the  work  for  which  she  had 
long  been  looking.  She  also  found  now  the  love 
which  was  to  crown  her  life  by  her  marriage 
to  the  young  Marquis  d'Ossoli. 

Margaret  first  met  Ossoli  in  1847,  while  at 
vespers  at  St.  Peter's.     The  following  winter 


80  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

she  took  an  apartment  in  the  Corso  in  Rome, 
and  the  young  marquis  was  often  there  drawn 
to  his  new  friend  by  her  interest  in  the  republican 
cause,  which  he  had  espoused,  as  well  as  by 
what  seems  to  have  been  a  very  real  passion  on 
his  part.  In  the  intervals  of  nursing  his  aged 
father  he  ardently  pursued  his  wooing,  telling 
Margaret  repeatedly  "  that  he  must  marry  her 
or  be  miserable."  "  She  refused  to  look  on  him 
as  a  lover,"  relates  Mrs.  William  W.  Story, 
who  was  her  confidant,  "  and  insisted  that  it 
was  not_  fitting,  —  that  it  was  best  he  should 
marry  a  younger  woman  [he  was  thirty  and 
she  was  nearly  thirty-eight] ;  that  she  would  be 
his  friend  but  not  his  wife.  In  this  way  it 
rested  for  some  weeks,  during  which  we  saw 
Ossoli  pale,  dejected,  and  unhappy.  He  was 
always  with  her,  but  in  a  sort  of  hopeless, 
desperate  manner,  until  at  length  he  convinced 
her  of  his  love  and  she  married  him." 

The  absurd  story  which,  even  today,  is  re- 
peated from  time  to  time,  that  Ossoli  was  un- 
educated and  that  he  ill-treated  his  wife,  I 
should  not  even  refer  to  were  there  not  always 
so  many  people  who  prefer  to  think  badly  of 
Italians  as  husbands.  He  had  the  education 
of  an  Italian  gentleman  of  his  time,  and  if  it 
had  been  possible  to  reproduce  here  the  too- 
faded  daguerreotype  —  the  only  known  picture 
of   him  —  which   Colonel   Higginson   owns   we 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  81 

should  have  seen  that  Ossoli  was  exactly  the 
man  to  love  and  be  loved  by  Margaret  Fuller. 
A  poetic  face,  his,  in  which  one  reads  the  possi- 
bility of  high  patriotism  and  of  the  finest 
chivalry!  But  he  was  never  able  to  talk  to 
his  wife  in  her  own  tongue;  their  beautiful 
love-letters,  which  were  saved  from  the  wreck 
in  which  they  and  their  baby  perished,  were 
all  written  in  Italian.  The  secrecy  of  their 
marriage  is  by  most  writers  attributed  to  Ossoli's 
close  relation  to  the  Papal  household  and  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  an  alliance  with  a  for- 
eigner (who  was  a  Protestant)  would  probably 
have  cut  him  off  from  his  share  of  his  father's 
fortune.  Colonel  Higginson  quotes  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Story  which  quite  effectively  gives 
the  lie  to  those  who  would  believe  this  strange 
union  not  a  success,  however.  "  Ossoli's  manner 
towards  Margaret  was  devoted  and  lover-like 
to  a  degree.  He  cared  not  how  trivial  was  the 
service  if  he  might  perform  it  for  her.  I  re- 
member to  have  seen  him,  one  morning,  after 
they  had  been  married  nearly  two  years,  set 
off  on  an  errand  to  get  the  handle  of  her  parasol 
mended,  with  as  much  genuine  knightly  zeal 
as  if  the  charge  had  been  a  much  weightier  one. 
As  he  took  it  he  said,  c  How  sweet  it  is  to  do 
little  things  for  you!'  .  .  .  He  never  wished 
her  to  give  up  any  pleasure  because  he  could  not 
share  it,  but  if  she  were  interested  he  would  go 


82  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

with  her  to  any  house,  leave  her  and  call  again 
to  take  her  home.  Such  tender  unselfish  love 
I  have  rarely  seen  before;  it  made  green  her 
days  and  gave  her  an  expression  of  peace  and 
serenity  which  before  was  a  stranger  to  her." 

Margaret  herself  wrote  (February  5,  1850) 
to  Mrs.  Marcus  Spring,  with  whom  she  had  gone 
abroad :  "I  have  expected  that  those  who  cared 
for  me  simply  for  my  activity  of  intellect  would 
not  care  for  Ossoli;  but  those  in  whom  the  moral 
nature  predominates  would  gladly  learn  to 
love  and  admire  him  and  see  what  a  treasure 
his  affection  must  be  to  me."  *  Which  makes 
one  feel  how  true  a  word  was  that  which  the 
American  consul  in  Turin  sent  to  Emerson  a 
year  after  Ossoli  with  his  wife  and  child  had 
drowned  off  Fire  Island,  "It  is  abundantly 
evident  that  Margaret's  young  husband  dis- 
charged all  the  obligations  of  his  relation  to 
her  con  amore.  His  admiration  amounted  to 
veneration,  and  her  yearning  to  be  loved 
seemed  at  last  to  be  satisfied."  2 

1  Quoted  in  Sanborn's  Autobiography. 

2  Those  who  care  to  explore  the  lengths  to  which  such  a  yearn- 
ing to  be  loved  may  lead  a  woman  of  Margaret  Fuller's  temperament 
and  are  interested  to  find  a  psychological  explanation  for  much  that 
is  puzzling  in  Margaret's  character,  should  read  Katharine  S.  An- 
thony's biographical  sketch  of  this  brilliant  personality,  published 
by  Harcourt,  Brace  and  Howe,  of  New  York. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEN  THE  SLAVE  WAS  A  HERO 

IN  these  present  days  of  social  unrest,  when 
a  compact  minority  of  American  citizens 
are  sure  that  certain  definite  things  in  the 
government  of  our  country  are  very  wrong,  — 
although  regretfully  admitting  that  they  see 
no  immediate  prospect  of  their  effective  better- 
ment, —  it  should  rebuke  their  f  aint-heartedness 
and  cheer  their  souls  to  reflect  that  the  great 
work  of  that  other  minority  known  as  Aboli- 
tionists was  accomplished  in  about  thirty  years. 
The  men  who  set  this  tremendous  movement  in 
motion  actually  lived  to  see  their  cause  won  and 
were  obliged  to  look  about  for  further  evils  in 
need  of  devoted  service! 

The  speed  with  which  this  far-reaching  reform 
was  brought  about  may  be  credited  chiefly  to 
the  fact  that  God  raised  up  for  the  work  two 
men,  Wendell  Phillips  and  William  Lloyd  Gar- 
rison, who  did  practically  nothing  else  but 
agitate  their  cause  until  the  day  had  been  won. 
Of  Phillips  I  speak  at  length  in  another  chapter. 
Let  us  here,  therefore,  pass  at  once  to  the  simple 


84  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

annals  of  Garrison's  great  life  and  to  a  considera- 
tion of  the  conditions  which  he  had  to  confront 
as  he  began  his  work.  For  he  it  was  who 
created,  almost  single-handed,  the  moral  force 
which  overthrew  slavery.  When  we  consider 
the  resistance  which  he  overcame,  the  result 
achieved  must  be  regarded,  as  James  Freeman 
Clarke  has  pointed  out,1  "as  an  unexampled 
triumph  of  pure  truth.  The  slaves  held  in  the 
Southern  States  were  valued,  at  the  time  of 
the  Civil  War,  at  about  three  thousand  millions 
of  dollars.  Added  to  this  pecuniary  interest 
was  the  value  of  cotton  lands,  sugar  plantations 
and  rice  fields  cultivated  exclusively  by  slaves. 
And  beside  the  powerful  money  motive  for 
maintaining  slavery  there  were  the  force  of 
custom,  the  habits  engendered  by  despotism, 
pride,  prejudice  and  hatred  of  outside  inter- 
ference. These  interests  and  feelings  gradually 
united  the  whole  South  in  a  determined  hos- 
tility to  emancipation;  and  men  professing 
anti-slavery  principles  could  not  live  safely 
in  the  slaveholding  states. 

"  This  united  South,"  continues  Dr.  Clarke, 
"  had  for  its  allies  at  the  North  both  the  great 
political  parties,  the  commercial  and  manu- 
facturing interests,  nearly  the  whole  press,  and 
both  extremes  of  society.  Abolition  was  equally 
obnoxious  in  the  parlors  of  the  wealthy  and  to 

1  In  the  Memorial  History  of  Boston. 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  85 

the  crowd  of  roughs  in  the  streets,  —  fashion 
and  the  mob  being  for  once  united  by  a  common 
enmity.  It  was  against  this  immense  weight 
of  opposition  that  the  Abolitionists  contended; 
and  their  strength  consisted  wholly  in  the 
justice  of  their  cause  and  the  enthusiasm  which 
that  cause  inspired." 

Of  this  enthusiasm  Boston  was  preeminently 
the  breeding-place.  Garrison  made  no  mistake 
in  early  migrating  to  the  town  which  had  long 
ago  shown  itself  intolerant  of  oppression.  Even 
in  those  early  days  when  many  Boston  folk 
held  slaves,  the  sentiment  of  the  people  as  a 
whole  was  opposed  to  slavery.  In  1646  the 
General  Court  ordered  a  negro  stolen  from 
Africa  and  brought  to  Boston  to  be  sent  back  to 
the  place  from  which  he  had  been  led  away 
captive.  In  1701  the  Selectmen  of  Boston  passed 
a  vote  requesting  the  Representatives  to  "  put 
a  period  to  negroes  being  slaves."  In  1766 
and  1767  votes  were  passed  in  town-meeting 
instructing  its  representatives  "  That  for  the 
total  abolishing  of  slavery  among  us,  That  you 
move  for  a  law  to  prohibit  the  importation 
and  purchasing  of  slaves  for  the  future."  In 
1770  occurred  the  case  of  Prince  Boston,  who 
was  hired  and  paid  wages  by  a  Quaker  in 
Nantucket,  —  Elisha  Folger;  and  when  his 
owner  brought  an  action  for  the  recovery  of  his 
slave,  the  jury  returned  a_yerdict  against  the 


86  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

owner,  and  Prince  Boston  was  manumitted 
by  the  magistrates.  As  for  the  attitude  on  this 
big  question  of  the  Bostonians  who  fought  to 
throw  off  the  yoke  of  George  III  it  is  very  well 
expressed  in  the  words  of  Samuel  Adams  who, 
with  the  words,  "  Surry  must  be  free  on  crossing 
the  threshold  of  my  house,"  declined  to  receive 
as  property  a  negro  girl  offered  to  his  wife  as 
a  present. 

Cotton  Mather,  to  be  sure,  had  been  burdened 
with  no  such  scruples.  There  is  an  entry  in 
his  diary  of  1706  in  which  he  records  that  he 
had  "  received  a  singular  blessing  "  in  the  gift 
of  "  a  very  likely  slave,"  which  was  "  a  mighty 
smile  of  Heaven  upon  his  family."  And  at 
the  very  time  when  Adams  scorned  the  gift 
of  a  slave,  Boston  folk  of  "  respectability " 
were  trafficking  in  men  and  women  —  at  arm's 
length.  Nor  was  slavery  ever  explicitly  abol- 
ished in  Massachusetts,  though  "  in  the  famous 
Jennison  case  tried  at  Worcester  in  1781,  it 
was  declared  that  slavery  no  longer  existed." 
(Justin  Winsor,  Memorial  History  of  Boston, 
Volume  IV,  page  6.) 

So  there  is  no  doubt  that  while  Boston  was  a 
pretty  good  place  for  Garrison  to  choose  as  his 
residence,  it  was  not  one  in  which  his  labors 
would  be  thrown  away.  Joseph  T.  Buckingham 
of  the  Boston  Courier  had  printed  two  sonnets 
written  in  prison  by  the  young  Newburyporter 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  87 

before  the  office  of  the  Liberator  was  opened 
on  Water  Street;  but  that  by  no  means  implies 
that  an  over-cordial  welcome  would  be  ex- 
tended to  a  man  who  had  set  himself  to  the 
task  of  freeing  all  the  slaves  in  the  land. 
Too  many  Boston  folk  were  making  a  great 
deal  of  money  out  of  slavery  and  its  associated 
activities. 

Garrison's  father  was  a  sea  captain,  and  his 
mother  was  a  deeply  religious  Baptist.  Thus 
heredity  had  endowed  him  with  strength  and 
personal  courage  on  the  one  hand,  and  with 
deep  and  fervid  religious  faith  on  the  other. 
Three  years  after  Lloyd's  birth  (on  December 
10,  1805)  the  captain-father  left  his  wife  and 
children  nevermore  to  return.  It  is  believed 
that  he  found  the  temptations  to  intemperance 
offered  by  the  seaport  town  of  Newburyport 
more  than  he  could  bear,  and  to  avoid  disgracing 
his  family,  decided  to  live  away  from  them. 
Thus  it  fell  out  that  William  Lloyd  Garrison 
was  early  thrown  upon  his  own  resources  for 
a  livelihood,  —  and  that  his  strong-souled 
mother  became  to  him,  while  he  was  a  tiny  lad, 
all  that  two  parents  might  have  been.  While 
yet  too  small  comfortably  to  support  the 
weight  of  a  lapstone,  he  was  apprenticed  to  a 
shoemaker,  but  that  occupation  proving  un- 
congenial, a  place  in  a  printing  office  was  found 
for  him.    This  work  he  liked  and  so  graduated, 


88  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

at  the  age  of  twenty,  from  an  apprenticeship 
into  the  position  of  a  self -publishing  editor. 

The  chance  of  falling  in,  two  years  later 
(1828),  with  Benjamin  Lundy,  editor  of  the 
Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation,  set  our  young 
journalist  in  the  current  which  was  to  bear  him 
on  to  ever-increasing  fame  and  usefulness. 
Lundy  was  an  interesting  figure,  a  Quaker, 
who  travelled  about  from  town  to  town,  mostly 
on  foot,  carrying  a  heavy  pack  containing 
among  other  things  the  head  rules,  column 
rules  and  subscription  book  of  his  paper.  When 
he  came  to  a  town  where  he  found  a  printing 
office  he  would  stop  long  enough  to  get  out 
and  mail  a  number  of  Genius.  His  writings 
were  aflame  with  hatred  for  slavery  and  de- 
termination to  put  it  down,  and  when  one  of 
his  shabby  little  sheets  found  its  way  to 
the  office  in  Bennington,  Vermont,  over  which 
Garrison  was  now  presiding  as  editor,  its  burning 
words  inspired  that  youth  to  take  the  first 
definite  step  of  his  thirty  years'  war  against 
slave-holding.  Forthwith  he  wrote  a  petition 
for  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  which  he  sent  to  all  the  postmasters 
in  the  State  of  Vermont,  begging  them  to  procure 
signatures  thereto.  And  since,  in  that  day, 
postmasters  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  receiving 
and  sending' letters  free  of  postage,  the  petition 
was  quite  bulky  when  it  arrived  in  Congress. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  89 

It  immediately  caused  the  slave-holding  con- 
stituency to  sit  up  and  take  notice  of  —  William 
Lloyd  Garrison. 

Lundy,  naturally,  was  immensely  pleased  at 
the  ardor  and  resourcefulness  of  his  new  recruit, 
and  in  order  to  make  him  an  offer  of  partnership 
walked  all  the  way  from  Boston  to  Bennington, 
staff  in  hand  and  pack  on  back.  The  result  of 
this  conference  was  their  joint  proprietorship  for 
a  time  of  the  Genius.  The  paper  was  now 
issued  weekly  from  Baltimore,  to  which  city 
young  Garrison  removed. 

Garrison  believed  in  immediate  emancipation 
and  wrote  all  his  articles  to  this  end,  signing 
them  with  his  initials  that  they  might  easily 
be  distinguished  from  those  of  Lundy,  who 
believed  in  getting  the  slaves  emancipated 
gradually.  Inevitably  the  younger  editor  soon 
got  the  sheet  and  himself  into  hot  water.  Balti- 
more was  one  of  the  principal  marts  of  the 
domestic  slave  trade  and  Francis  Todd  of  New- 
buryport  was  the  owner  of  a  vessel  which 
now  came  to  that  port  to  take  to  New  Orleans 
a  cargo  of  eighty-eight  slaves.  Here  was  a 
first-rate  case  of  Northern  complicity  in  the 
infamous  traffic,  and  Garrison  lost  no  time  in 
vigorously  denouncing  Todd  for  his  share  in 
a  transaction  which,  as  he  pointed  out,  was  in 
no  way  different  in  principle  from  taking  a 
cargo  of  human  flesh  on  the  coast  of  Africa 


90 


ROMANTIC   DAYS 


and  carrying  it  across  the  ocean  to  market. 
The  law  denounced  the  foreign  slave  trade  as 
piracy,  but  the  domestic  slave  trade  was  every 
whit  as  wicked  in  the  sight  of  God,  declared 
Garrison.  A  libel  suit  instituted  by  Todd  fol- 
lowed hard  upon  the  publication  of  this  article, 
and  as  a  trial  in  a  slave-holding  court  before  a 
slave-holding  jury  could  have  but  one  outcome, 
Garrison  soon  found  himself  in  jail  for  lack  of 
the  wherewithal  to  pay  the  fifty  dollars  fine 
imposed  upon  him. 

Now  it  was  that  he  wrote  the  two  sonnets 
which  Joseph  Buckingham  was  moved  to  pub- 
lish in  the  Boston  Courier.  They  had  been 
inscribed  with  a  pencil  on  the  walls  of  the 
prisoner's  cell  and  were  entitled  "  Freedom  of 
the  Mind"  and  "The  Guiltless  Prisoner." 
After  seven  weeks  of  confinement  Garrison's 
fine  was  paid  by  Arthur  Tappan,  a  leading  New 
York  merchant,  who  had  been  a  reader  of  the 
Genius,  and  who  was  glad  thus  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  its  plucky  junior  editor. 

To  publish  a  paper  of  his  own  was  that  editor's 
next  adventure.  Boston  had  been  decided 
upon  as  the  background  for  the  experiment 
not  only  because  it  promised  as  much  hos- 
pitality as  any  city  to  such  an  undertaking  but 
also  because  Garrison  had  come  to  know  the 
place  pretty  well  and  to  be  fond  of  it  during 
the  year  or  so  passed  there,  in  a  printing  office, 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  91 

just  after  his  majority.  In  the  story  of  his 
life  as  told  by  his  children,  a  wonderful 
four  volume  work  which,  with  Johnson's  Will- 
iam Lloyd  Garrison  and  His  Times,  must  be 
absorbed  by  all  who  would  understand  Garrison 
in  his  wholeness,  -  -  we  are  told  that  at  this 
earlier  period  the  color  and  glamour  of  Boston 
appealed  as  strongly  to  Garrison  as  to  any 
healthy  young  man  come  to  the  metropolis 
from  a  small  town.  To  see  at  church  the  lovely 
face  of  Miss  Emily  Marshall,  who  was  renowned 
the  country  over  for  her  beauty  and  charm,  he 
even  forsook,  temporarily,  the  Baptist  fold 
of  his  mother  and  the  very  great  attraction 
offered  by  the  preaching  of  William  Ellery 
Channing  and  John  Pierpont,  reformers  both. 
So  strongly  had  the  joys  of  the  city  impressed 
itself  upon  him  that,  while  incarcerated  in  Balti- 
more jail,  he  even  wrote  some  verses  about 
Boston  Common  during  the  festival  period 
called  "Election  Week!" 

Election  Day  and  its  attendant  joys  appear 
to  have  appealed  particularly  to  the  Aboli- 
tionist mind,  very  likely  because  it  was  "  every- 
body's day;  and  emphatically  the  colored 
people's."  The  blacks  were  wont  to  flock  out 
in  great  numbers  from  what  was  known  as 
"  Nigger  Hill,"  the  lower  part  of  Joy  Street, 
and  Frederick  W.  G.  May,  years  afterwards, 
sent  to  Mrs.  Ednah  Dow  Cheney  for  repro- 


92  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

duction  in  her  Reminiscences  a  very  vivid 
description  of  the  ensuing  festival.  "  The 
wooden  fence  of  the  Common  from  Park  Street 
corner  to  and  beyond  West  Street  was  lined 
with  booths  and  stalls  where  eatables  and 
drinkables  were  exposed  for  sale  by  white  and 
colored  salesmen  and  saleswomen.  Even  oysters 
by  the  saucerful  at  fo'pence  ha'penney  (six  and 
a  quarter  cents)  found  eager  buyers;  lobsters, 
too,  and  candy  by  the  ton,  it  seemed  to  my 
young  eyes;  cakes  in  variety,  doughnuts,  ginger- 
nuts;  lemonade,  spruce  beer,  ginger  beer,  etc. 
One  specially  delightful  feature  was  the  ambula- 
tory stall,  an  ordinary  handcart  ....  furbished 
up  and  fitted  with  a  tilt  or  hood  to  shield  its 
delicacies  from  the  sun,  dust,  etc.;  inside  were 
boxes  and  shelves  with  the  innumerable  cakes 
that  the  well-bred  baker  then  could  furnish, 
buns  with  actual  currants  on  them,  jumbles, 
waffles  and  I  know  not  what  else,  seed  cakes,  — 
I  can  see  and  smell  them  now,  —  President 
Biscuit,  etc.  These  carts  would  literally  cover 
the  field  as  the  tide  of  mimic  war  ebbed  and 
flowed.  .  .  .  These  laudable  chariots  carried 
baked  beans  and  similar  necessities  of  Boston- 
Beverly  life,  —  brown  bread  hot,  etc.  —  their 
proprietors  and  motive  power  being  genial 
old  darkey  ladies  with  genuine  wool  and 
gay-colored  head  handkerchiefs  in  the  latest 
Southern    style.       This   was    Nigger    'lection, 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  93 

—  the    colored    people     very    much    in    evi- 
dence." 

Just  here,  because  of  the  allusion  to  "  Nigger 
Hill,"  it  is  interesting  to  give  Mrs.  Cheney's 
explanation  1  of  the  way  in  which  Joy  Street  got 
its  name.  About  1820,  when  her  parents  took 
a  house  on  that  thoroughfare  it  bore  the  name 
of  Belknap  Street.  Then  as  now  it  ran  from 
Beacon  Street  to  Cambridge  Street  and  was 
divided  by  cross  streets  into  three  parts  "  which 
at  that  time  pretty  well  represented  three  grades 
of  society.  In  the  upper  part  were  some  of  the 
finest  houses  and  most  '  swell '  people  in  the 
city.  In  the  middle  part  were  families  of  good 
standing,  and  in  this  part  was  our  house.  The 
lower  part  was  almost  entirely  occupied  by 
colored  people,  who  streamed  by  our  house  and 
gave  us  children  that  early  familiarity  with 
this  race  which,  thank  God,  has  prevented  me 
from  having  any  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
'  negro  as  a  man  and  a  brother.'  But  the  upper 
ten  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  giving  their  ad- 
dresses on  Belknap  Street  so  associated  with 
the  despised  race,  and  they  petitioned  the  city 
government  to  change  the  name  of  their  portion 
to  Joy.  Of  course  the  middle  class  are  but  too 
prone  to  mimic  the  manners  of  the  rich,  and  they 
next  asked  to  have  their  portion  renamed.  It 
is  a  democratic  country  and  therefore  the  lower 

1  Reminiscences  of  Ednah  Dow  Cheney. 


94  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

portion  of  the  street  wished  for  its  Joy  also, 
and  so  the  good  old  name  of  Belknap,  once 
belonging  to  a  worthy  divine,  was  given  up 
and  has  never  been  used  again."1  It  is  interest- 
ing to  add  that  Joy  Street  still  represents  the 
"  three  grades  of  society." 

The  Boston  Courier  had  published  the  sonnets 
which  Garrison  wrote  while  in  prison.  In  the 
advertising  columns  of  that  sheet,  therefore, 
the  young  reformer  —  who  was  now  resolved 
to  make  a  place  for  himself  in  Boston  — 
printed,  on  October  12, 1830,  this  advertisement: 

Wanted.  —  For  three  evenings,  a  Hall  or 
Meeting-house  (the  latter  would  be  preferred) 
in  which  to  vindicate  the  rights  of  two  millions 
of  American  citizens  who  are  now  groaning  in 
servile  chains  in  this  boasted  land  of  liberty; 
and  also  to  propose  just,  benevolent,  and  con- 
stitutional measures  for  their  relief.  As  the 
addresses  will  be  gratuitous,  and  as  the  cause  is 
of  public  benefit,  I  cannot  consent  to  remunerate 
any  society  for  the  use  of  its  building.  If  this 
application  fails,  I  propose  to  address  the  citi- 
zens of  Boston  in  the  open  air,  on  the  Common. 

Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison. 

No.  30,  Federal  Street,  Oct.  11,  1830. 

Two  days  later  the  papers  announced  that 
Mr.  Garrison  would  deliver  his  first  lecture,  on 

1  It  survives,  however,  in  Belknap  Place  which  leads  off  Joy 
Street. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  95 

Friday  evening,  October  15,  in  Julien  Hall, 
at  the  northwest  corner  of  Milk  and  Congress 
Streets.  The  body  which  had  offered  him  the 
hospitality  of  its  headquarters  was  made  up 
of  avowed  "  infidels,"  men  who  had  no  personal 
acquaintance  with  Garrison  and  no  especial 
sympathy  with  his  cause;  men,  too,  whose  sect 
he  had  recently  denounced  in  public.  It  was 
with  deep  shame  for  his  Christian  brethren, 
we  may  be  sure,  that  Garrison  accepted  their 
hospitality.  While  he  thanked  them  for  their 
courtesy  he  declared  his  firm  belief  that  slavery 
could  be  abolished  only  through  the  power  of 
the  Gospel  and  of  Christian  religion. 

A  good  many  prominent  Christians  were 
among  those  who  came  to  hear  that  lecture  in 
the  hall  of  the  "  infidels."  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher, 
then  the  head  of  the  Orthodox  pulpit  in  Boston, 
was  there.  So  was  Rev.  Ezra  S.  Gannett,  a 
well-known  Unitarian  divine,  Samuel  E.  Sewall, 
a  young  lawyer  whose  famous  ancestor,  Judge 
Samuel  Sewall,  had  been  one  of  the  earliest 
opponents  of  slavery  in  America,1  Bronson 
Alcott,  the  Concord  oracle,  and  Rev.  Samuel 
J.  May,  afterwards  very  distinguished  in  the 
anti-slavery  movement.  Mr.  May  has  thus 
described  the  occasion: 

"  Presently  the  young  man  arose,  modestly, 
but  with   an  air  of  calm  determination,   and 

1  See  Si.  Botolph's  Town,  p.  282  et  seq. 


96  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

delivered  such  a  lecture  as  lie  only,  as  I  believe, 
at  that  time  could  have  written;  for  he,  only, 
had  had  his  eyes  so  anointed  that  he  could 
see  that  outrages  perpetrated  upon  Africans 
were  wrongs  done  to  our  common  humanity; 
he,  only,  I  believe,  had  had  his  ears  so  com- 
pletely unstopped  of  *  prejudice  against  color  ' 
that  the  cries  of  enslaved  black  men  and  black 
women  sounded  to  him  as  if  they  came  from 
brothers  and  sisters.  .  .  . 

"  Never  before,"  declares  May,  "  was  I  so 
affected  by  the  speech  of  any  man.  When  he 
had  ceased  speaking  I  said  to  those  around  me : 
*  That  is  a  providential  man;  he  is  a  prophet; 
he  will  shake  our  nation  to  its  centre,  but  he 
will  shake  slavery  out  of  it.  We  ought  to 
know  him  and  we  ought  to  help  him.  Come, 
let  us  go  and  give  him  our  hands.'  Mr.  Sewall 
and  Mr.  Alcott  went  up  with  me  and  we  intro- 
duced each  other.  I  said  to  him:  '  Mr.  Garri- 
son, I  am  not  sure  I  can  endorse  all  you  have 
said  this  evening.  Much  of  it  requires  careful 
consideration.  But  I  am  prepared  to  embrace 
you.  I  am  sure  you  are  called  to  a  great  work 
and  I  mean  to  help  you.'  Mr.  Sewall  cordially 
assured  him  of  his  readiness,  also,  to  cooperate 
with  him.  Mr.  Alcott  invited  him  to  his  home. 
He  went  and  we  sat  with  him  until  twelve  that 
night,  listening  to  his  discourse,  in  which  he 
showed  plainly  that  immediate,  unconditional 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  97 

emancipation  without  expatriation,  was  the 
right  of  every  slave  and  could  not  be  withheld 
by  his  master  an  hour  without  sin.  That  night 
my  soul  was  baptized  in  his  spirit,  and  ever 
since  I  have  been  a  disciple  and  fellow-laborer 
of  William  Lloyd  Garrison. 

"  The  next  morning,  immediately  after  break- 
fast, I  went  to  his  boarding-house  and  stayed 
until  two  p.  m.  I  learned  that  he  was  poor, 
dependent  upon  his  daily  labor  for  his  daily 
bread  and  intending  to  return  to  the  printing 
business.  But,  before  he  could  devote  himself 
to  his  own  support,  he  felt  that  he  must  deliver 
his  message,  must  communicate  to  persons  of 
prominent  influence  what  he  had  learned  of 
the  sad  condition  of  the  enslaved,  and  the 
institutions  and  spirit  of  the  slave-holders; 
trusting  that  all  true  and  good  men  would 
discharge  the  obligation  pressing  upon  them 
to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  poor,  the  oppressed, 
the  down-trodden.  He  read  to  me  letters  he 
had  addressed  to  Dr.  Channing,  Dr.  Beecher, 
Dr.  Edwards,  the  Hon.  Jeremiah  Mason,  and 
Hon.  Daniel  Webster,  holding  up  to  their 
view  the  tremendous  iniquity  of  the  land  and 
begging  them,  ere  it  should  be  too  late,  to 
interpose  their  great  power  in  the  Church  and 
State  to  save  our  country  from  the  terrible 
calamities  which  the  sin  of  slavery  was  bringing 
upon  us.    These  letters  were  eloquent,  solemn, 


98  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

impressive.     I  wonder  they  did  not  produce  a 
greater  effect." 

Oliver  Johnson,  who  knew  Garrison  well,  and 
has  written  very  enthusiastically  of  his  life 
and  work,  has  an  explanation  to  offer  as  to  the 
"  why  "  of  this,  and  any  of  us  who  have  had 
experience  with  reform  movements  in  which 
the  church  is  involved  will  appreciate  the  truth 
of  what  he  says.  Unhappily,  the  influences 
which  chiefly  sustained  slavery  were  supplied 
by  the  people  of  the  North.  And  these  people 
were  the  same  ones  who  were  supporting  in 
their  pulpits  the  clergy  to  whom  Mr.  Garrison 
had  addressed  his  letters!  "The  pulpit  was 
thus  sorely  tempted,"  comments  Mr.  Johnson, 
"  to  swerve  from  the  laws  of  humanity  and 
rectitude  and  become  the  apologist  if  not  the 
defender  of  slavery."  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher, 
whose  daughter  was  to  do  more  than  any  other 
woman  in  the  world  to  help  in  the  overthrow 
of  slavery,  lost  a  golden  opportunity  at  this 
juncture  of  immortality  on  his  own  account. 
Garrison  greatly  admired  Beecher,  who  was 
then  at  the  head  of  the  Orthodox  pulpit  in 
Boston  (though  his  former  church-home  on 
Hanover  Street  had  just  been  burned  and  the 
new  building  of  his  society  on  Bowdoin  Street  — 
now  known  as  the  Church  of  St.  John  the 
Evangelist  —  was  not  yet  completed) ,  and  in 
all  simplicity  and  trust  he  turned  to  him  for 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  99 

support.  "  I  have  too  many  irons  in  the  fire 
already,"  was  the  Doctor's  evasive  answer. 
"  Then,"  said  Garrison,  solemnly,  "  you  had 
better  let  all  your  irons  burn  than  neglect  your 
duty  to  the  slave."  Whereupon,  not  having 
arguments  to  offer,  Beecher  withdrew  into  his 
robes  of  office,  as  many  another  priest  has  done 
before  and  since,  replying  grandiosely,  "  Your 
zeal,  young  man,  is  commendable,  but  you  are 
misguided.  If  you  will  give  up  your  fanatical 
notions  and  be  led  by  us  (the  clergy)  we  will 
make  you  the  Wilberforce  of  America." 

Rev.  Samuel  J.  May,  however,  was  a  different 
type  of  man  and,  on  the  very  next  Sunday 
after  he  had  heard  Garrison's  lectures,  he 
endorsed  from  the  pulpit  of  Rev.  Alexander 
Young,  at  Church  Green  in  Summer  Street, 
which  he  chanced  to  be  supplying,  the  doctrines 
which  this  new  prophet  had  come  to  preach. 
In  concluding  his  sermon  he  said,  "  I  have  been 
prompted  to  speak  thus  by  the  words  I  have 
heard  during  the  past  week  from  a  young  man 
hitherto  unknown,  but  who  is,  I  believe,  called 
of  God  to  do  a  greater  work  for  the  good  of 
our  country  than  has  been  done  by  anyone 
since  the  Revolution.  I  mean  William  Lloyd 
Garrison.  He  is  going  to  repeat  his  lectures 
the  coming  week.  I  advise,  I  exhort,  I  entreat  — 
would  that  I  could  compel !  —  you  to  go  and  hear 
him."     It  takes  a  finely  sensitized  conscience 


100  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

to  recognize  a  prophet  of  righteousness  as  soon 
as  one  has  made  his  acquaintance,  and  it  takes 
a  very  high  kind  of  courage  to  declare  to  hostile 
hearers  one's  belief  that  they  should  heed  the 
message  of  such  a  man.  All  honor,  therefore, 
to  Samuel  J.  May,  for  that  he  had  the  heart 
to  feel  and  the  grit  to  proclaim  the  advent  in 
Boston  of  him  who  had  been  sent  of  God 
expressly  to  strike  the  shackles  from  the  lacer- 
ated limbs  of  the  slave.1 

Happily,  Garrison  had  a  literary  sense  as 
well  as  a  compelling  ethical  ideal;  he  stead- 
fastly refused  to  call  the  paper  about  to  be 
born  the  Safety  Lamp,  as  suggested  by  Mr. 
Sewall,  insisting  that  there  be  given  to  it  the 
bold  and  appropriate  title  of  the  Liberator. 
The  first  number  of  the  epoch-making  sheet 
appeared  on  Saturday,  January  1,  1831.  Even 
for  that  day  of  small  things  in  the  publishing 
line  it  was  an  unimpressive  sheet,  a  folio  of  four 
pages  fourteen  inches  in  length  by  nine  and 
three-tenths  in  width,  printed  after  hours  in 
the  office  of  the  Christian  Examiner  in  return 
for  its  proprietor's  services  in  the  day  time. 
At  first  the  title  was  in  black-letter,  but,  at 
the  end  of  four  months,  this  form  was  changed, 
and   by    1850    an    engraved   head,    which  well 

1  How  much  "  grit  "  this  required  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that 
a  friend  of  May's  father  condoled  with  the  old  gentleman  in  all 
seriousness  next  day,  saying,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  pity 
you;    I  hear  your  son  went  crazy  at  Church  Green  yesterday." 


'  t  r  '    ■ 
Hi  ' 


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■\  R  It  1 

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I  B  (.  I  s 

HERS. 

NO.  17. 

PfcosTOX,  Mas 

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t'.iuv. 

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<T>«r  <£w:in\  \;.  \f,<   UX>rl>,  cur  £,Hmin(«U'K  an-  aft   ilia 


THE  SECOND,  THIRD,  AND  FOURTH  HEADINGS  OF       THE  LIBERATOR. 
THE    FIRST    WAS    PLAIN    TYPE. 


'4. 


W  A 


VA  \ 


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IN    OLD   BOSTON  101 

repays  careful  examination,  was  being  used. 
Hammatt  Billings  made  the  final  design,  which 
is  of  exceeding  interest  to  us  today  in  that 
the  whole  story  of  slavery  is  there  told  pic- 
torially.  In  the  background  is  seen  the  capitol 
of  the  United  States,  with  a  flag  upon  which  is 
inscribed  the  word  "  Liberty "  floating  over 
the  dome.  In  front  is  an  auctioneer's  stand 
with  the  sign,  "  Slaves,  horses  and  other  cattle 
in  lots  to  suit  the  purchaser,"  — and  a  whipping 
post  showing  a  slave  under  the  lash.  Balancing 
this  —  in  the  Billings  design  —  is  an  allegorical 
presentation  of  life  among  the  blacks  when 
Emancipation  has  been  declared.  And  between 
stands  Christ  and  his  cross  with  the  scripture 
line,  "  I  come  to  break  the  bonds  of  the  op- 
pressor." ! 
The  hardships  under  which  the  paper  was 
gotten  out  during  its  early  years  are  a  classic 
tale  today;  but  I  like  to  rename  them  none 
the  less.  Garrison  slept  in  his  office  (the 
generosity  of  the  Christian  Examiner  lasted 
for  the  first  three  issues  only)  with  the  mailing 
table  for  a  bed  and  a  book  for  his  pillow.  His 
scanty  meals  he  prepared  himself,  and  he  set 
up  with  his  own  hand  the  articles  which  he 
printed,  composing  them  as  he  went  along.  In 
their  first  issue  Garrison  and  his  co-publisher, 
Isaac  Knapp,  had  announced  their  determina- 
tion to  print  the  paper  as  long  as  they  might  be 


102  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

able  to  subsist  upon  bread  and  water,  and  this 
was  no  empty  boast.  For  a  year  and  a  half  the 
two  men  actually  had  no  food  except  such  as 
could  be  obtained  at  a  baker's  shop  opposite 
and  a  tiny  fruit  shop  in  the  basement  of  their 
building.  A  friendly  cat  cheered  their  loneliness 
and  Mr.  Johnson  recalls  that  Garrison,  who 
was  fond  of  animals,  would  often  be  found 
writing  while  the  cat,  mounted  on  the  table 
by  his  side,  caressed  his  bald  forehead  in  a  most 
affectionate  way. 

In  his  first  number  Garrison  declared  "  I 
am  in  earnest  —  I  will  not  equivocate  —  I  will 
not  excuse  —  I  will  not  retreat  a  single  inch  — 
and  I  will  be  heard."1  Yet  he  avowed  from  the 
very  start  his  opposition  to  war  and  violence 
under  every  circumstance.  Naturally,  however, 
the  slaveholders  could  not  see  the  matter  quite 
as  Garrison  did,  and  when  the  Liberator's  plain 
heading  gave  way,  in  the  seventeenth  number 
of  the  paper,  to  a  cut  showing  slaves  being  sold 
at  auction,  they  with  one  voice  declared  the 
sheet  "  incendiary  "  and  began  to  clamor  for 
its  suppression.  A  highly  respectable  and  very 
conservative  journal  published  at  Washington, 

1  The  Liberator  was  needed,  for  one  searches  in  vain  for  mention 
in  such  a  paper  as  the  Advertiser,  for  instance,  of  American  slavery 
as  an  institution  to  be  deplored.  On  the  front  page  of  this  sheet, 
the  year  the  Liberator  was  started,  I  find,  however,  in  one  day 
long  articles  reprobating  slavery  in  England,  and  oppression  in 
Russia  and  Poland! 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  103 

the  National  Intelligencer,  appealed  to  "  the 
intelligent  population  of  New  England  "  and 
specifically  to  Harrison  Gray  Otis,  then  mayor 
of  Boston,  to  prevent  the  further  publication  of 
the  Liberator,  asserting  that  in  printing  such  a 
paper  Garrison  was  performing  "  a  crime  as 
great  as  that  of  poisoning  a  well." 

Otis  had  never  heard  of  the  Liberator  when 
his  attention  was  thus  called  to  its  deadly 
influence,  but,  in  answer  to  the  appeal  he  pro- 
cured a  copy  and  examined  it  carefully.  Then 
he  had  its  publication-office  sought  out  and 
finding  it  to  be  "  an  obscure  hole  "  did  not 
bother  himself  much  further  about  the  matter. 
The  State  of  Georgia,  however,  actually  passed 
a  law  offering  $5,000  for  the  conviction  of 
those  responsible  for  the  paper's  publication 
or  for  its  circulation  within  the  bounds  of  that 
State ! 

Meanwhile,  the  prophet  went  serenely  on  his 
way,  getting  out  his  little  sheet  regularly,  and 
speaking,  writing  and  talking  everywhere  his 
doctrine  of  immediate  emancipation.  Many 
who  believed  in  freeing  the  slaves  did  not 
at  all  agree  with  him  in  his  insistence  that 
"  now  is  the  accepted  hour  for  taking  that 
righteous  step."  Gradual  emancipation  and 
education  the  while  for  all  blacks  was  what  they 
counselled.  But  Garrison  argued  thus  simply: 
"  Slavery  is  wrong.     Every  wrong  act  should  be 


104  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

immediately  abandoned.  Therefore  slavery 
ought  at  once  to  cease.  Do  right  and  leave  the 
results  to  God."  When  pressed  as  to  the  con- 
sequences of  this  doctrine,  he  would  explain 
that  he  did  not  mean  that  all  slaveholders 
should  turn  their  slaves  out  of  doors,  but  that 
they  should  recognize  that  the  blacks  are  free 
and  be  only  their  temporary  guardian;  that 
they  should  allow  those  who  might  wish  to 
leave  to  go  away  whither  they  would,  and  should 
pay  wages  to  all  who  should  desire  to  remain. 
"  Slavery  is  the  holding  of  a  human  being  as 
property."  This  definition,  hit  upon  by  Rev. 
Amos  A.  Phelps  of  Boston,  himself  soon  to 
become  a  zealous  Abolitionist,  contained  all 
that  was  necessary  to  justify  to  Garrison  the 
stand  he  had  found  it  imperative  to  take. 
For  a  creature  with  an  immortal  soul  could 
not  be  "  property." 

Thus  far,  —  for  nearly  a  year,  —  the  Liberator 
had  been  the  organ  of  no  organization;  it  had 
merely  expressed  the  views  of  its  high-minded 
editor.  But  the  time  was  now  come  for  the 
formation  of  a  society  which  should  have  for 
its  purpose  the  overthrow  of  slavery.  The  first 
meeting  to  form  such  a  society  was  held  on 
Nov.  13,  1831,  in  the  oflSce  of  Mr.  Sewall,  and 
on  December  16  there  followed  another.  The 
names  of  those  present  at  the  second  meeting, 
besides  Garrison  and  Sewall,  were  Ellis  Gray 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  105 

Loring  and  David  Lee  Child,  Boston  lawyers; 
Isaac  Knapp,  publisher  of  the  Liberator;  Samuel 
J.  May,  then  settled  in  Brooklyn,  Connecticut; 
Oliver  Johnson,  William  J.  Snelling,  Alonzo 
Lewis,  Dr.  Abner  Phelps,  Rev.  Mr.  Blanchard 
(editor  of  an  anti-masonic  religious  paper)  and 
Gamaliel  Bradford.  A  constitution  was  drafted 
by  Ellis  Gray  Loring  and  Oliver  Johnson,  but  it 
was  voted  to  adjourn  until  January  6,  at  which 
time  said  constitution  should  be  adopted. 

The  ensuing  meeting  —  held  in  the  school- 
room of  the  African  Baptist  Church  1  on  Smith 
Court,  off  Joy  Street  —  was  one  which  is  a 
landmark  in  American  history.  Writing  nearly 
fifty  years  afterwards,  Oliver  Johnson,  who  had 
been  the  youngest  person  present,  said  of  the 
occasion,  "  My  recollections  of  the  evening  are 
very  vivid.  A  fierce  north-east  storm,  combin- 
ing snow,  rain,  and  hail  in  about  equal  pro- 
portions, was  raging  and  the  streets  were  full 
of  slush.  They  were  dark,  too,  for  the  city  of 
Boston  in  those  days  was  very  economical 
of  light  on  '  Nigger  Hill.'  But  the  twelve 
white  men  who  there  signed  the  Constitution 
of  the  first  association  ever  organized  in  this 
country  for  the  purpose  of  freeing  the  blacks 
were  not  easily  to  be  discouraged  by  the  frowns 

1  The  building  still  stands  but  is  now  a  synagogue,  one  of  the 
32  in  Boston  wherein  worship  more  than  80,000  Jews;  previous  to 
1840  the  family  of  Peter  Spitz  represented  the  only  Jews  in  Boston. 


106  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

of  nature.  As  they  were  stepping  out  into  the 
storm  and  darkness,  all  echoed  in  their  hearts 
the  words  of  their  inspired  leader,  '  We  have 
met  to-night  in  this  obscure  school-house;  our 
numbers  are  few  and  our  influence  limited; 
but,  mark  my  prediction,  Faneuil  Hall  shall 
ere  long  echo  with  the  principles  we  have  set 
forth.  We  shall  shake  the  nation  by  their 
mighty  power.' "  This  speech  and  the  occasion 
which  called  it  forth  should  take  its  place  in 
history  alongside  of  Franklin's  famous  bon  mot 
at  a  similarly  crucial  point  in  American  affairs. 
"  Gentlemen,  if  we  do  not  all  hang  together 
we  shall  all  hang  separately."  Great  is  the  pity 
that  no  Rembrandt  has  arisen  among  Americans 
to  send  down  through  the  ages  the  shadowy 
interior  of  that  "  obscure  school-house "  in 
which,  while  storm  and  sleet  were  raging  outside, 
this  bravest  of  all  American  ventures  was 
launched  by  a  little  handful  of  devoted  Boston 
citizens. 

Within  a  year  after  the  formation  of  the 
New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society  the  women 
interested  in  freedom  for  the  slave  formed  an 
organization,  also.  They  appear  not  to  have 
been  invited  to  the  meeting  held  in  the  African 
Church,  but  Garrison  was  quick  to  see  that  this 
was  an  injustice  and  he  soon  (in  1832)  introduced 
a  Ladies'  Department  into  his  paper  and  fol- 
lowed up  that  important  step  by  declaring  his 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  107 

belief  that  "  the  cause  of  bleeding  humanity  is 
always,  legitimately,  the  cause  of  woman,"  and 
asserting  his  strong  desire  that  women  should 
work  with  men  to  right  the  great  wrong  of 
slavery.  "  A  million  females  in  this  country," 
he  added,  "  are  recognized  and  held  as  property 
—  liable  to  be  sold  or  used  for  the  gratification 
of  the  lust  or  avarice  or  convenience  of  un- 
principled speculators  —  without  the  least  pro- 
tection of  their  chastity.  .  .  .  Have  these  no 
claims  upon  the  sympathies  —  prayers  —  chari- 
ties —  exertions  of  our  white    countrywomen? 

"  *  When  woman's  heart  is  bleeding, 
Shall  woman's  voice  be  hushed?  '  " 

Woman's  voice  had  already  begun  to  be  heard 
concerning  other  issues  and  the  Boston  Female 
Anti-Slavery  Society  —  founded  October  14, 
1832,  by  a  little  group  of  ladies  —  promptly 
began  to  make  its  influence  felt  in  regard  to  this 
cause,  also.  Lydia  Maria  Child,  Maria  Weston 
Chapman,  and  her  sisters,  the  Misses  Weston, 
Louisa  Loring,  the  wife  of  Ellis  Gray  Loring, 
Eliza  Lee  Follen,  Susan  Cabot,  and  the  lady 
who  was  afterwards  to  become  Mrs.  Wendell 
Phillips  were  a  few  of  those  who,  through  the 
new  organization,  were  soon  doing  yeoman 
service  for  the  Abolitionist  cause.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1833  Lydia  Maria  Child  published  her 
famous  Appeal  In  Favor  of  That  Class  of 
Americans  ^Called    Africans,     a     work    which 


108  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

cost  her  very  much  in  income  and  in  social 
position.  When  she  first  met  Garrison  she  was 
the  most  successful  woman  writer  and  editor 
in  the  United  States.  But  she  wrote  later  in 
life,  "  he  got  hold  of  the  strings  of  my  conscience 
and  pulled  me  into  reform  work.  It  is  no  use 
to  imagine  what  might  have  been  if  I  had  never 
seen  him.  Old  dreams  vanished,  old  associates 
departed,  and  all  things  became  new.  A  new 
stimulus  seized  my  whole  being  and  carried  me 
whithersoever  it  would.  I  could  not  do  other- 
wise, so  help  me  God." 

One  important  service  rendered  to  the  cause 
by  Mrs.  Child  was  her  share  in  the  conversion 
of  William  Ellery  Channing,  then  in  the  height 
of  his  influence  and  fame.  John  Pierpont,  of 
the  Hollis  Street  church,  Amos  A.  Phelps, 
Charles  Follen  and  Samuel  J.  May  were 
clergymen  who  had  already  rallied  to  the 
standard  of  Garrison.  Channing,  however,  had 
not  yet  taken  the  decisive  step.  During  a  visit 
to  the  West  Indies  (in  1830)  occasioned  by  ill 
health,  he  had  been  much  impressed  with  the 
wrong  and  evil  of  slavery  and  on  his  return  to 
Boston  he  began  to  express  himself  on  the 
subject.  Then  Mrs.  Child  took  him  in  hand 
and  "  at  every  interview,"  she  writes,  "  I  could 
see  that  he  grew  bolder  and  stronger  on  the 
subject,  while  I  felt  that  I  grew  wiser  and  more 
just.     At  first  I  thought  him  timid  and  even 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  109 

slightly  timeserving,  but  I  soon  discovered 
that  I  had  formed  this  estimate  from  ignorance 
of  his  character.  I  learned  that  it  was  justice 
to  all,  not  popularity  for  himself,  which  made 
him  so  cautious.  He  constantly  grew  upon 
my  respect,  until  I  came  to  regard  him  as  the 
wisest  as  well  as  the  gentlest  apostle  of  hu- 
manity." 

To  Samuel  J.  May  is  due  the  credit  for  the 
definitive  crossing-over  of  Channing  to  the 
side  of  the  Garrisonians.  The  doctor  had  been 
expressing  to  Mr.  May  his  agreement  with 
the  Abolitionists  in  all  their  essential  doctrines, 
but  his  disapproval,  none  the  less,  of  their  harsh 
denunciations,  violent  language  and  frequent 
injustice  to  their  opponents.  To  which  at 
last  Mr.  May  replied:  "  If  this  is  so,  Sir, 
it  is  your  fault.  You  have  held  your  peace 
and  the  stones  have  cried  out.  If  we,  who  are 
obscure  men,  silly  women,  babes  in  knowledge, 
commit  those  errors,  why  do  not  such  men  as 
yourself  speak  and  show  us  the  right  way?  '' 
To  which  came,  after  a  long  pause,  the  answer, 
"  Brother  May,  I  acknowledge  the  justice  of 
your  reproof.    I  have  been  silent  too  long." 

But  after  that  he  was  silent  no  longer.  By 
his  work  on  Slavery,  his  letter  to  James  G. 
Birney  on  "  The  Abolitionists  "  (1836)  and 
his  appearance  with  the  reformers  at  the  State 
House  in  that  same  year  he  made  it  very  clear 


110  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

that  he  was  with  —  and  not  against  —  the 
work  of  God  and  humanity.  His  attitude  in 
this  matter  cost  him  many  friends,  too,  and 
drew  down  upon  his  head  a  great  deal  of  abuse. 
But  he  did  not  swerve  in  his  devotion  to  the 
principles  he  had  at  length  espoused.  And,  in 
that  day,  to  stand  firm  required  a  great  deal 
of  faith  as  well  as  much  personal  courage. 
Bryant  characterized  the  struggle  as  "  a  war- 
fare which  would  only  end  with  life;  a  friendless 
warfare  lingering  through  weary  day  and  weary 
year,  in  which  the  timid  good  stood  aloof,  the 
sage  frowned  and  the  hissing  bolt  of  scorn 
would  too  surely  reach  its  aim."  Actual  violence 
was  not  unknown  either.  Miss  Prudence  Cran- 
dall,  a  Quaker  young  woman  of  high  character, 
who  had  made  colored  girls,  also,  eligible  to 
her  young  ladies'  school  in  Canterbury,  Con- 
necticut, was  for  so  doing  arrested  and  thrown 
into  jail  after  every  attempt  to  starve  or  frighten 
her  out  of  her  position  had  been  tried  in  vain. 
In  New  York  mobs  sacked  the  house  of  Lewis 
Tappan,  brother  of  that  generous  soul  who  had 
paid  Garrison's  fine  while  in  jail,  and  in  Vermont 
Samuel  J.  May  was  mobbed  five  times  in  one 
month. 

To  be  sure,  the  language  of  the  Abolitionists 
was  not  calculated  to  allay  prejudice,  once 
aroused.  For,  as  Margaret  Fuller  strikingly 
put  it,  "  The  nation  was  deaf  in  regard  to  the 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  111 

evils  of  slavery;  and  those  who  have  to  speak 
to  deaf  people  naturally  acquire  the  habit  of 
saying  everything  on  a  very  high  key."  The 
Liberator  was,  indeed,  "  incendiary."  In  all 
justice,  therefore,  we  should  admit  that  those 
Bostonians  who  honestly  feared  lest  the  violent 
speech  which  was  being  used  by  the  reformers 
should  endanger  the  peace  of  the  land  and 
result  only  in  harm  to  all  concerned,  were  not 
of  necessity  cowards  or  self-seekers.  Often  their 
dissent  was  merely  as  to  method. 

England  meanwhile  was  supporting  Mr.  Gar- 
rison handsomely.  In  1833  he  was  welcomed 
there  with  open  arms  by  such  men  as  Macaulay, 
Wilberforce,  and  O'Connell;  and  he  became  the 
close  friend  of  George  Thompson,  the  hero  of 
the  struggle  for  West  India  emancipation,  — 
him  of  whom  Lord  Brougham  said,  in  the 
House  of  Lords  at  the  time  of  the  passage  of 
the  Act  of  Emancipation,  "  I  rise  to  take  the 
crown  of  this  most  glorious  victory  from  every 
other  head  and  place  it  upon  George  Thomp- 
son's. He  has  done  more  than  any  other  man 
to  achieve  it."  Thompson  was  a  very  eloquent 
speaker,  and  Garrison  felt  strongly  that,  if  he 
would  come  to  America,  the  cause  of  Abolition 
here  would  be  greatly  advanced.  Such,  indeed, 
proved  to  be  the  case  in  many  cities  for,  from 
the  time  Thompson  landed  in  New  York,  in 
the  fall  of  1834,  until  he  sailed  again  for  home 


112  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

something  over  a  year  later,  he  made  converts 
unnumbered.  Frequently  those  who  had  come 
to  scoff  remained  to  pray,  so  wonderful  was  his 
eloquence,  and  so  compelling  his  zeal  for  human 
liberty. 

Boston,  however,  lastingly  disgraced  herself 
by  her  attitude  towards  George  Thompson,  — 
though  New  York  and  Brooklyn  were  not  far 
behind  in  their  enmity.  Mrs.  Child,  in  a 
letter  dated  August  15,  1835,  wrote  thus  to  a 
Boston  friend,  "  I  am  at  Brooklyn,  at  the  house 
of  a  very  hospitable  Englishman,  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Thompson's.  I  have  not  ventured  into  the 
city,  nor  does  one  of  us  dare  to  go  to  church 
today,  so  great  is  the  excitement  here.  You  can 
form  no  conception  of  it.  'Tis  like  the  times  of 
the  French  Revolution,  when  no  man  dares 
trust  his  neighbors.  Private  assassins  from 
New  Orleans  are  lurking  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets  to  stab  Arthur  Tappan;  and  very  large 
sums  are  offered  for  anyone  who  will  convey 
Mr.  Thompson  into  the  slave  States.  .  .  .  He  is 
almost  a  close  prisoner  in  his  chamber,  his 
friends  deeming  him  in  imminent  peril  the 
moment  it  is  ascertained  where  he  is.  .  .  ." 
Within  a  week  after  these  words  were  written, 
fifteen  hundred  prominent  citizens  of  Boston 
appended  their  names  to  a  call  for  a  public 
meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall  to  denounce  agitation 
of  slavery  as  putting  in  peril  the  existence  of 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  113 

the  Union.  Harrison  Gray  Otis  was  one  of  those 
who,  at  this  famous  gathering,  spoke  eloquently 
against  Thompson  and  the  friends  who  were 
working  with  him  for  the  overthrow  of  slavery. 
But  though  the  Faneuil  Hall  meeting  intensi- 
fied the  feeling  against  Garrison  and  Thompson, 
it  was  not  on  that  occasion,  but  two  months 
later,  when  the  Boston  Female  Anti-Slavery 
Society  was  holding  its  annual  meeting,  that  the 
historic  demonstration  of  Boston  "  gentlemen  of 

THOMPSON, 

THE    ABOLITIONIST. 


That  infamous  foreign  scoundrel  THOMPSON,  will 
hold  forth  this  afternoon,  at  the  Liberator  Office,  No^ 
48,  Washington  Street.  The  present  is  a  fair  opportu- 
nity for  the  friends  of  the  Union  to  snake  Thompson 
out!  It  will  be  a  contest  between  the  Abolitionists  and 
the  friends  of  the  Union.  A  purse  of  $100  has  been 
raised,  by  a  number  of  patriotic  citizens  to  reward  the 
Individual  who  shall  first  lay  violent  hands  on  Thompson, 
so  that  he  may  be  brought  to  the  tar  kettle  before  dark. 
Friends  of  the  Union,  be  vigilant!  ^  \%*sm 

Boston,  Wednesday,  12  o'clock. 

property  and  standing  "  occurred.  The  meeting 
was  advertised  to  be  held  in  the  Society's  hall, 
then  numbered  46  Washington  Street,  midway 
between  State  Street  and  Cornhill,  and  an 
incendiary  placard  issued  that  same  day  at 
12  o'clock  from  the  office  of  the  Commercial 
Gazette  announced  that  "  the  infamous  foreign 


114  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

scoundrel,  Thompson,  will  hold  forth,  this 
afternoon,  at  the  Liberator  office.  .  .  .  The 
present  is  a  fair  opportunity  for  the  friends  of 
the  Union  to  snake  Thompson  out."  It  added 
that  one  hundred  dollars  had  been  raised  to 
be  paid  to  the  man  who  should  "  first  lay  violent 
hands  on  Thompson,  that  he  might  be  brought 
to  the  tar-kettle  before  dark."  This  handbill 
was  distributed  in  all  the  places  where  people 
were  in  the  habit  of  congregating,  in  the  insur- 
ance offices,  the  reading-rooms,  all  along  State 
Street,  in  the  hotels  and  drinking  places  and 
among  the  mechanics  at  the  North  End.  As 
a  result  there  gathered  from  every  quarter  of 
the  town  men  bent  upon  making  trouble  for 
Thompson.  Between  three  and  four  o'clock 
there  were,  according  to  various  estimates, 
from  two  to  five  thousand  people  packing  both 
sides  of  Washington  and  State  Streets  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Old  State  House. 

Thompson  was  not  at  the  meeting,  however, 
nor  was  he  expected.  But  Garrison  was  there 
to  deliver  a  short  address,  and  the  ladies  of  the 
Society,  inferring  rightly  that  the  crowd,  cheated 
of  its  hoped-for  victim,  would  try  to  rend  Gar- 
rison, advised  him  to  retire  from  the  hall. 
This  he  prudently  did,  but  instead  of  leaving 
the  building,  he  went  into  the  Liberator  office, 
adjoining  the  hall,  and  there  busied  himself 
writing  to  a  friend  in  a  distant  city  an  account 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  115 

of  the  riotous  demonstrations  going  on  outside. 
But  the  letter  was  never  finished,  for  soon  the 
marauders,  who  had  rushed  into  the  hall  in 
search  of  him,  were  kicking  out  the  panels  of 
his  office  door  and,  but  for  the  presence  of 
mind  of  Charles  C.  Burleigh,  would  have  seized 
him  forthwith  and  dragged  him  out.  Friends 
hustled  Garrison  into  a  carpenter's  shop  in 
the  rear  of  the  building  and  for  a  time  he  was 
safe.  But  the  mob  soon  discovered  his  retreat 
and  he  was  made  to  descend  by  a  ladder  into 
Wilson's  Lane,  now  a  part  of  Devonshire  Street. 
Then  he  was  seized  by  his  enemies  and  dragged 
into  State  Street,  in  the  rear  of  the  Old  State 
House.  From  the  rough  handling  of  the  mob  — 
they  had  thrown  a  rope  around  his  body  and 
torn  the  clothes  from  his  back  while  disputing 
as  to  whether  they  should  hang  him  or  subject 
him  to  milder  treatment,  —  Garrison  was  at 
length  rescued  by  Mayor  Lyman  and  his 
officers,  who  succeeded  in  getting  him  into  the 
Old  State  House  (then  used  as  the  City  Hall 
and  Post-office)  through  the  south  door. 

The  howls  of  those  who  had  been  thus  cheated 
of  their  victim  now  became  so  violent,  and  their 
acts  grew  so  alarming,  that,  to  save  the  old 
building  and  Garrison's  life,  it  was  hastily 
decided  to  commit  him  to  jail  as  a  disturber 
of  the  peace,  and  he  was  quickly  smuggled  out 
of  the  north  door  into  a  waiting  hack.     After 


116  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

a  desperate  struggle  with  the  infuriated  multi- 
tude, the  horses  started  at  break-neck  speed 
through  Court  Street  to  Bowdoin  Square, 
through  Cambridge  into  Blossom  Street,  and 
thence  to  Leverett  Street  jail.  And  there,  just 
around  the  corner  from  his  own  home  at  23 
Brighton  Street,  the  editor  of  the  Liberator 
spent  in  a  cell  the  night  of  October  21,  1835. 
The  morning  after  his  incarceration  he  made 
upon  the  walls  of  his  cell  this  inscription: 
'  William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  put  into  this 
cell  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  October  21,  1835, 
to  save  him  from  the  violence  of  a  respectable 
and  influential  mob,  who  sought  to  destroy  him 
for  preaching  the  abominable  and  dangerous 
doctrine  that  '  all  men  are  created  equal,'  and 
that  all  oppression  is  odious  in  the  sight  of 
God.  Hail  Columbia!  Cheers  for  the  Autocrat 
of  Russia  and  the  Sultan  of  Turkey!  Reader, 
let  this  inscription  remain  till  the  last  slave 
in  this  despotic  land  be  loosed  from  his  fetters!  " 
The  ladies  whose  meeting  had  been  so  rudely 
interrupted  made  a  brave  attempt  to  pursue  the 
object  for  which  they  had  come  together. 
Miss  Mary  S.  Parker,  the  president,  opened 
the  exercises  by  reading  a  portion  of  Scripture, 
and  then,  in  a  sweet  and  serene  voice,  she 
offered  a  prayer  for  the  cause  of  the  slave  and 
besought  forgiveness  for  his  oppressors.  After 
the  mob  had  burst  inside  their  hall,  however, 


o 

2  ° 


TREMONT    STREET    SOUTH    OF    SCHOOL    STREET    ABOUT    1850. 


DOROTHEA    LYNDE    DIX.  MRS#    WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON. 

From  a  daguerreotype  taken  in  1S5S.       Frnm  a  daguerreotype  taken  about  1852. 
Page  227.  Page  122. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  117 

the  mayor  urged  the  ladies  to  retire,  saying  that 
it  might  not  be  in  his  power,  with  his  small 
force,  to  protect  them  long.  This  they  did, 
the  police  making  a  passage  for  them  through 
the  jeering  crowd  outside.  Francis  Jackson 
immediately  invited  them  to  conclude  their 
meeting  at  his  home  on  Hollis  Street.  He 
was  determined  that  there  should  be  free 
speech  in  Boston  at  whatever  peril.  But  when 
Hollis  Street  was  reached  it  was  found  that 
Mrs.  Jackson  was  ill,  so  the  meeting  finished 
its  business  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Maria  Weston 
Chapman,  at  No.  11  West  Street.  It  was  Mrs. 
Chapman  who,  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  had 
replied,  —  when  Mayor  Lyman  had  been  urging 
that  it  was  dangerous  for  the  ladies  to  remain 
in  their  hall,  —  "If  this  is  the  last  bulwark  of 
freedom,  we  may  as  well  die  here  as  anywhere." 
For  almost  two  weeks  after  this  affair  Gar- 
rison, by  the  advice  of  his  friends,  secluded 
himself  at  Brooklyn,  Connecticut,  from  which 
place,  his  wife,  then  in  her  twenty-fifth  year 
and  an  expectant  mother  of  her  first  child, 
wrote  as  follows  of  her  emotions  on  the  epoch- 
making  day  to  Mrs.  Chapman's  sister: 

"  Brooklyn,  Oct.  31,  1835. 
"  I  thank  you,  my  dear  Miss  Weston,  for  your 
kind  letter,  and  the  expressions  of  sympathy 
for  me  and  mine  which  it  contained.    When  I 


118  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

left  you  at  Court  Street  and  ascertained  Mr. 
Garrison  was  not  at  the  Liberator  office,  I 
comforted  myself  with  the  reflection  that  he 
had  retired  under  the  roof  of  some  dear  friend, 
where  he  was  safe.  I  made  a  long  call  at  a 
friend's  house  and  then  hastened  home,  with 
the  fond  anticipation  of  meeting  him;  but 
alas!  you  may  judge  of  my  feelings  when  my 
domestic  informed  me  a  gentleman  had  just 
left  the  house,  who  seemed  exceedingly  agitated, 
and  very  desirous  of  seeing  me.  In  a  few 
moments  he  returned,  with  a  countenance 
which  indicated  excessive  grief.  I  prepared 
myself  for  the  worst,  thinking  all  he  would 
reveal  to  me  could  not  surpass  what  I,  in  a 
few  moments  of  suspense,  had  imagined  the 
real  danger  might  be.  He  kindly  and  feelingly 
related  all  that  had  transpired,  from  the  time 
the  ruffians  seized  him  at  the  carpenter's  shop 
and  conveyed  him  to  the  mayor's  office. 

"  I  put  on  my  things  with  a  full  determination 
of  seeing  him,  and  ascertaining  for  a  certainty 
how  much  injury  he  had  received;  but  before 
I  reached  the  office  I  met  with  several  friends 
who  dissuaded  me  from  attempting  it;  and 
not  thinking  it  expedient  myself,  when  I  was 
apprised  of  the  multitude  that  had  assembled, 
I  concluded  to  tarry  with  my  kind  friend,  Mrs. 
Fuller,  to  await  the  result.  About  five  I  learned 
he  was  safely  carried  to  jail  for  safe-keeping. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  119 

How  my  heart  swelled  with  gratitude  to  the 
Preserver  of  our  being,  for  having  enabled  him 
to  pass  through  the  hands  of  a  mob  without 
receiving  the  slightest  injury.  My  dear  husband 
was  wonderfully  sustained  in  a  calm  and  quiet 
state,  during  the  whole  scene  of  confusion  that 
reigned  around  him;  he  was  perfectly  collected 
and  felt  willing  to  sacrifice  his  life  rather  than 
compromise  principles.  The  two  men  you  allude 
to  in  your  letter  were  the  ones  who  were  most 
active  in  their  exertions  to  save  husband;  why 
they  were  so  no  one  knows,  without  they  were 
bribed  by  someone  to  do  it;  however,  let  their 
motives  be  what  they  would,  may  blessings 
rest  on  them  for  this  one  act  of  kindness. 

"  I  was  rejoiced  our  dear  friend,  Thompson, 
was  in  his  quiet  retreat;  for  had  he  been  in 
Boston  they  would  have  devoured  him  like  so 
many  wolves,  and  Bostonians  would  have  been 
obliged  to  blush  for  one  of  the  most  atrocious 
and  villainous  acts  that  could  have  been  com- 
mitted in  the  sunlight  of  heaven.  I  hope  he 
will  use  every  precaution  for  his  own  safety 
that  duty  requires  him  to,  for  the  sake  of  his 
family  and  friends. 

"  I  cannot  feel  too  thankful  that  Mr.  May 
was  absent  from  the  city  at  the  time,  as  he  would 
in  all  probability  have  been  the  next  most 
conspicuous  in  the  cause,  and  might  have 
received  some  severe  blows  if  no  more. 


120  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

"  I  was  glad  the  ladies,  notwithstanding  all 
they  had  endured  for  the  truth,  were  permitted 
to  proceed  with  their  meeting  without  molesta- 
tion; had  I  known  it  was  their  intention  to 
adjourn  to  a  private  house,  I  would  certainly 
have  been  one  of  their  number. 

"  The  many  attentions  I  received  from  my 
friends  are  too  numerous  to  mention;  they 
flocked  around  me,  unwearied  in  their  exertions, 
and  rendered  me  every  needful  assistance.  How 
comforting  and  consoling  the  thought,  that 
there  were  hearts  who  beat  in  unison  with 
my  own,  and  whose  most  fervent  aspirations 
were  ascending  to  the  mercy-seat  for  a  hasty 
and  speedy  deliverance  from  the  dangers  which 
looked  so  threatening. 

"  We  are  now  at  my  Father's  house,  well  and 
happy,  where  I  think  we  shall  remain  through 
the  winter,  as  I  find  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
keep  house  without  endangering  others'  prop- 
erty, and  frequently  having  our  own  domestic 
happiness  broken  in  upon  by  a  lawless  mob. 
Husband  thinks  he  likes  the  retirement  of 
the  country,  and  that  he  will  be  able  to  accom- 
plish much  more  in  the  way  of  editorial  than 
if  he  was  in  the  city,  where  so  many  duties 
necessarily  devolve  upon  him. 

"  My  dear  husband  was  deeply  affected  on 
perusing  your  consoling  letter,  especially  that 
part  of  it  which  relates  to  himself.     He  desires 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  121 

me  to  convey  to  you  his  warm  and  heartfelt 
emotions  of  gratitude,  and  the  same  to  the 
Christian  heroines  of  the  Female  Anti-Slavery 
Society,  for  all  your  sympathies,  kindnesses, 
and  prayers,  so  freely  elicited  in  our  behalf. 
What  he  has  been  called  to  suffer  he  considers 
not  worthy  to  be  mentioned  except  joyfully, 
for  it  is  a  high  honor  and  not  a  reproach  to  be 
dragged  through  the  streets  by  a  lawless  mob, 
for  his  testimony  against  the  great  abomination 
of  this  wicked  land.  I  desire  to  bless  God 
that  his  faith  was  superior  to  the  trial  which  he 
was  called  to  endure  —  that  in  the  hour  of 
peril  he  was  undaunted  and  cheerful;  and  tho' 
I  still  tremble  for  his  safety,  yet,  inexpressibly 
dear  as  he  is  to  me,  I  had  rather  see  him  sacrifice 
his  life  in  this  blessed  cause  than  swerve  from 
a  single  right  principle.  He  expects  to  visit 
Boston  next  week,  and  will  avail  himself  of  the 
opportunity  to  see  you.  He  desires  to  be 
remembered,  with  all  respect  and  esteem,  to 
your  sisters  and  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chapman, 
for  all  of  whom  he  entertains  an  exalted 
opinion. 

"  Remember  me  very  kindly  to  your  sisters 
and  the  Miss  Ammidons,  to  whom  I  am  greatly 
indebted  for  the  many  favors  I  received  the 
day  I  was  taking  my  departure. 

"  I  am,  very  affectionately  yours, 

"  Helen  E.  Garrison." 


122  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

Surely  a  very  beautiful  and  noble  letter!  It 
reminds  me  tardily  that  I  have  not  told  at 
all  of  Garrison's  love-making  or  of  the  charming 
girl  who  was  glad  to  share  his  uncertain  income 
and  troublous  career.  They  had  first  met  in 
Providence,  just  before  Garrison  set  sail  for 
England,  and  their  attraction  had  from  the 
beginning  been  mutual,  though  no  words  of 
love  were  exchanged  until  January,  1834,  when 
they  began  a  correspondence  which  soon  cul- 
minated in  an  engagement.  That  spring,  on 
his  way  to  Philadelphia,  the  youth  for  the 
first  time  visited  the  maiden  as  an  accepted 
suitor  and  was  immensely  pleased  to  observe 
that  she  had  not  "  dressed  up  "  for  him!  "  Not 
one  young  lady  out  of  ten  thousand,"  he 
writes,  —  with  remarkable  acumen,  consider- 
ing his  life-study  had  been  Slavery  and  not 
Woman  —  "  but  in  a  first  interview  with  her 
lover  would  have  endeavored  falsely  to  heighten 
her  charms  and  allure  by  outward  attractions." 
Helen  Benson,  then  as  ever,  though,  was 
inclined,  (as  was  her  father  before  her),  to 
Quaker  garb  and  Quaker  ideals.  At  the  wedding 
which  followed,  September  4,  1834,  there  was 
neither  cake  nor  wine,  both  bride  and  groom 
feeling  the  importance  of  their  example  to  the 
colored  population,  whose  tendency  to  show 
and  parade  they  understood  and  deplored. 
After   a  journey   to   Boston   by   carriage,   the 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  123 

young  couple  began  housekeeping  at  "  Free- 
dom's Cottage,"  on  Bower  Street,  near  Walnut 
Street,  Roxbury,  where  they  continued  to  live 
for  some  time.  On  the  first  anniversary  of  his 
marriage,  Garrison  thus  wrote  of  his  wife  to 
her  brother  George,1  who  was  also  an  ardent 
abolitionist,  "  I  did  not  marry  her  expecting 
that  she  would  assume  a  prominent  station  in 
the  anti-slavery  cause,  but  for  domestic  quietude 
and  happiness.  So  completely  absorbed  am  I 
in  that  cause  that  it  was  undoubtedly  wise  for 
me  to  select  as  a  partner  one  who,  while  her 
benevolent  feelings  were  in  unison  with  mine, 
was  less  immediately  and  entirely  connected 
with  it.  I  knew  that  she  was  naturally  diffident 
and  distrustful  of  her  own  ability  to  do  all  that 
her  heart  might  prompt.  She  is  one  of  those 
who  prefer  to  toil  unseen,  to  give  by  stealth  — 
and  to  sacrifice  in  seclusion.  By  her  unwearied 
attention  to  my  wants,  her  sympathetic  regards, 
her  perfect  equanimity  of  mind,  and  her  sweet 
and  endearing  manners,  she  is  no  trifling  support 
to  abolitionism,  inasmuch  as  she  lightens  my 
labors  and  enables  me  to  find  exquisite  delight  in 
the  family  circle,  as  an  offset  to  public  adversity." 
One  of  the  most  striking  things  in  connection 
with  the  anti-slavery  struggle  was  the  coterie 

1  There  are  five  large  volumes  of  MS.  letters  by  Garrison  and 
twenty-one  volumes  of  letters  to  him  in  the  archives  of  the  Boston 
Public  Library,  the  gift  to  that  institution  of  Garrison's  children. 


124  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

of  beautiful  and  gifted  women  who  gave  them- 
selves whole-heartedly  to  the  cause.  In  Boston 
alone  there  were  enough  of  these  to  make  an 
imposing  array,  and  when,  to  reinforce  their 
ranks,  there  came  from  Philadelphia  such 
women  as  Angelina  and  Sarah  Grimke  and 
from  England  such  as  Harriet  Martineau  and 
Fanny  Kemble  1  the  movement  was  sure  to 
make  headway  apace.  Many  of  the  women 
workers  in  the  anti-slavery  cause  grew  to  know 
intimately  other  women  who  had  been  slaves 
and  so  were  moved  by  personal  interest  as  well 
as  by  principle  to  strike  down  the  accursed 
thing.  Mrs.  Cheney  tells  of  her  warm  sympathy 
for  Harriet  Jacobs,  who  was  born  a  slave  in 
North  Carolina  and  who  suffered  in  her  own 
person  all  the  terrible  evils  to  which  beautiful 
young  girls  who  were  house  servants  were 
habitually  exposed.  Through  incredible  suffer- 
ing she  escaped  from  slavery,  being  for  almost 
seven  years  hidden  away  in  a  small  loft  where 
she  could  neither  stand  erect  nor  move  with 
any  freedom.  In  Linda,  the  Autobiography  of 
a  Slave  Woman,  sl  very  rare  book,  she  has 
herself  told  the  history  of  her  life.  For  many 
years  this  woman  was  in  the  service  of  N.  P. 
Willis's   family   and   subsequently   she  kept   a 

1 "  I  am  sick  and  weary  of  this  cruel  and  ignorant  folly,"  wrote 
Fanny  Kemble  of  slavery,  which  she  had  studied  while  living  in 
1838-9  on  a  Georgia  rice  plantation. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  125 

boarding-house  at  Cambridge  for  Harvard  stu- 
dents. Harriet  Tubman,  whose  story  has  been 
told  by  Sarah  H.  Bradford,  and  Ellen  Craft,  a 
light  mulatto  woman,  who  escaped  disguised  as 
a  young  Southern  planter,  bringing  her  husband 
with  her  in  the  character  of  her  body  servant, 
likewise  moved  by  their  personal  narrations  the 
hearts  and  consciences  of  all  who  heard  them, 
especially  those  "  devout  women  not  a  few  " 
who  were  already  alive  to  the  terrible  wickedness 
of  slavery. 

Angelina  Grimke,  daughter  of  a  Southern 
slave-owner,  soon  had  an  appalling  example  of 
that  wickedness  brought  to  her  very  door,  — 
and  she  met  the  situation  like  the  heroic  creature 
that  she  was.  Seeing  in  an  anti-slavery  paper 
(after  the  war)  allusions  to  the  academic  honors 
being  won  at  Lincoln  University  by  two  young 
colored  men  of  her  family  name,  she  opened  a 
correspondence  with  the  youths,  thinking  they 
might  be  ex-slaves  of  one  of  her  brothers. 
She  found  that  they  were  the  sons  as  well  as 
former  slaves  of  her  favorite  brother,  who  had 
recently  died !  Immediately  she  journeyed  to 
see  them  at  their  school,  acknowledged  to 
their  professors  the  relationship  of  the  young 
men  and  their  claim  upon  her,  invited  them  to 
visit  her  at  her  home  in  Hyde  Park  (she  had 
by  this  time  married  Theodore  Weld,  an 
abolitionist  like   herself)  and  there  introduced 


126  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

them  to  her  friends,  quite  naturally,  as  her 
nephews.  They  were  good-looking,  intelligent, 
gentlemanly  young  men,  and  in  their  life  since 
(one  is  now  a  Presbyterian  minister  in  Washing- 
ton, the  other  a  successful  lawyer  in  Boston) 
they  have  nobly  realized  that  "  devotion  to 
the  eternal  principles  of  justice  and  humanity 
and  religion  "  which  she  solemnly  enjoined  on 
them  as  their  duty. 

No  one  felt  the  horror  of  the  whole  slave 
situation  more  than  Harriet  Martineau.  She 
was  the  heroine  of  the  adjourned  meeting  of 
the  Boston  Female  Anti-Slavery  Society  which 
came  on  November  19  at  the  home  of  Francis 
Jackson,  and  the  modest  little  speech  in  which 
she  then  declared  her  entire  sympathy  with  the 
cause  of  the  Abolitionists  brought  down  upon 
her  head  a  tide  of  denunciation  only  less  violent 
than  that  to  which  George  Thompson  himself 
had  been  subjected.  Social  ostracism  was 
henceforth  her  lot  in  Boston,  and  from  her 
experience  at  the  hands  of  the  city's  elite  sprang 
her  book  The  Martyr  Age  of  America,  which 
did  much  to  bind  the  hearts  of  the  Abolitionists 
in  England  to  the  friends  of  the  cause  on  this 
side  of  the  water. 

Another  woman  who  by  her  pen  and  voice 
rendered  very  valuable  service  to  the  cause  at 
this  crisis  and  later  was  Mrs.  Maria  Weston 
Chapman,    wife    of    Henry    G.    Chapman,    a 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  127 

Boston  merchant.  Mrs.  Chapman  was  a  lady 
of  Mayflower  lineage,  of  European  culture,  of 
very  unusual  beauty  and  of  great  social  charm. 
When  she  espoused  the  unpopular  cause  of  the 
negro  and  set  herself  to  work  early  and  late  at 
whatever  task  would  help  Garrison,  Boston 
society  was  frankly  disgusted.  Lowell  has 
described  Mrs.  Chapman  as 

"  A  noble  woman,  brave  and  apt, 
Cumsean  sibyl  not  more  rapt, 
Who  might,  with  those  fair  tresses  shorn, 
The  Maid  of  Orleans'  casque  have  worn; 
Herself  the  Joan  of  our  Arc 
For  every  shaft  a  shining  mark." 

The  picture  of  her  that  I  like  best  is,  however, 
that  given  by  Miss  Martineau  in  the  following 
paragraph : 

6  When  I  was  putting  on  my  shawl  upstairs, 
Mrs.  Chapman  came  to  me,  bonnet  in  hand,  to 
say,  '  You  know  we  are  threatened  with  a  mob 
again  to-day;  but  I  do  not  myself  much  appre- 
hend it.  It  must  not  surprise  us;  but  my  hopes 
are  stronger  than  my  fears.'  I  hear  now,  as  I 
write,  the  clear  silvery  tones  of  her  who  was 
to  be  the  friend  of  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  still 
see  the  exquisite  beauty  which  took  me  by 
surprise  that  day,  —  the  slender,  graceful  form; 
the  golden  hair  which  might  have  covered  her 
to  her  feet;  the  brilliant  complexion,  noble 
profile,  and  deep  blue  eyes;  the  aspect,  meant 


128  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

by  nature  to  be  soft  and  winning  only,  but  that 
day  (as  ever  since)  so  vivified  by  courage,  and 
so  strengthened  by  upright  conviction,  as  to 
appear  the  very  embodiment  of  heroism.  '  My 
hopes,'  said  she,  as  she  threw  up  her  golden 
hair  under  her  bonnet,  '  are  stronger  than  my 
fears.'  " 

Mrs.  Chapman's  husband  was  the  cousin  of 
Ann  Terry  Greene,  the  lady  who  was  soon  to 
become  Mrs.  Wendell  Phillips.  And  this  frail 
girl  it  was  who  won  to  the  side  of  the  Aboli- 
tionists its  most  valuable  exponent.  It  was 
at  the  Chapmans'  fireside,  too,  whither  Phillips 
had  gone  to  call  on  Miss  Greene  —  that  the 
most  gifted  spokesman  of  the  slave  met  for 
the  first  time  him  who  had  long  been  his  chief 
champion  —  another  illustration  of  the  old 
truth  that  it  is  love  which  makes  the  world  go 
round. 

For  many  years  Mrs.  Chapman  was  the 
prime  mover  in  the  annual  anti-slavery  fairs 
by  means  of  which  funds  to  carry  on  the  work 
of  the  Society  were  raised.  Through  her  wide 
circle  of  acquaintance  she  was  able  to  secure 
for  the  tables  many  contributions  from  Europe 
—  odd  and  beautiful  things  which  could  then 
be  purchased  at  no  Boston  shop,  and  which, 
therefore,  found  a  very  ready  sale.  Garrison 
sent  his  wife,  under  date  of  December  30,  1835, 
the  following  description  of  one  of  these  func- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  129 

tions:  "To-day  has  been  the  day  for  the 
Ladies'  Fair  —  but  not  so  bright  and  fair  out 
of  doors  as  within  doors.  The  Fair  was  held 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Chapman's  father  in 
Chauncey  Place,  in  two  large  rooms.  Perhaps 
there  were  not  quite  so  many  things  prepared 
as  last  year  but  the  assortment  was  nevertheless 
various.  There  were  several  tables,  as  usual, 
which  were  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
Misses  Weston,  The  Misses  Ammidon,  Miss 
Paul,  Miss  Chapman,  Mrs.  Sargent  (who  by 
the  way  spoke  in  the  kindest  manner  of  you), 
and  one  or  two  other  persons  whom  I  did  not 
know.  I  bought  a  few  things,  and  had  one  or 
two  presents  for  Mrs.  Garrison.  .  .  .  Our  friend 
Sewall's  *  intended,'  Miss  Winslow,  is  now  in 
the  city  and  was  at  the  Fair  today  with  two 
sparkling  eyes  and  a  pleasant  countenance. 
How  soon  the  marriage  knot  is  to  be  tied,  I 
cannot  find  out.  Don't  you  think  they  are 
unwise  not  to  hasten  matters?  .  .  .  This  eve- 
ning I  took  tea  at  Mr.  Loring's.  .  .  .  His  amiable 
wife  was  at  the  Fair  selling  and  buying  and 
giving  away  with  her  characteristic  assiduity 
and  liberality.  Both  of  them  were  very  kind 
in  their  inquiries  after  my  wife.  This  forenoon 
bro.  May  and  myself,  by  express  invitation, 
visited  Miss  Martineau  at  Mr.  Gannett's  house. 
The  interview  was  very  agreeable  and  satis- 
factory to  me.     She  is  a  fine  woman."     Miss 


130  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

Martineau,  on  the  other  hand,  pronounced 
Garrison  "  the  most  bewitching  person  "  she 
had  met  in  the  United  States! 

To  Miss  Martineau's  trenchant  pen  we  are 
indebted  for  a  picturesque  description  (in  the 
Martyr  Age  of  America)  of  an  important 
State  House  hearing  that  occurred  about  this 
time  (on  March  4,  1836)  on  the  question 
whether  citizens  of  non-slaveholding  States 
might  or  might  not  write  and  speak  against 
slavery.  "  While  the  committee  'r  she  writes, 
"  were,  with  ostentatious  negligence,  keeping 
the  Abolitionists  waiting,  they,  to  whom  this 
business  was  a  prelude  to  life  or  death,  were 
earnestly  consulting  in  groups.  At  the  further 
end  of  the  chamber  Garrison  and  another; 
somewhat  nearer,  Dr.  Follen  looking  German 
all  over,  and  a  deeper  earnestness  than  usual 
overspreading  his  serene  and  meditative  coun- 
tenance. In  consultation  with  him  was  Ellis 
Gray  Loring,  only  too  frail  in  form,  but  with 
a  face  radiant  with  inward  light.  There  were 
May  and  Goodell  and  Sewall  and  several  more, 
and  many  an  anxious  wife,  sister  or  friend 
looking  down  from  the  gallery. 

"  During  the  suspense  the  door  opened  and 
Dr.  Channing  entered,  —  one  of  the  last  people 
who  could,  on  that  wintry  afternoon,  have 
been  expected.  He  stood  a  few  moments, 
muffled  in  his  cloak  and  shawl-handkerchief, 


§s 


I  a 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  131 

and  then  walked  the  whole  length  of  the  room 
and  was  immediately  seen  shaking  hands  with 
Garrison.  A  murmur  ran  through  the  gallery 
and  a  smile  went  round  the  chamber.  Mrs. 
Chapman  whispered  to  her  next  neighbor, 
'  Righteousness  and  peace  have  kissed  each 
other! '  Garrison,  the  dauntless  Garrison, 
turned  pale  as  ashes  and  sank  down  on  a  seat. 
Dr.  Channing  had  censured  the  Abolitionists 
in  his  pamphlet  on  Slavery;  Garrison  had,  in 
the  Liberator,  rejected  the  censure;  and  here 
they  were  shaking  hands  in  the  Senate  chamber. 
Dr.  Channing  sat  behind  the  speakers,  handing 
them  notes,  and  most  obviously  affording  them 
his  countenance,  so  as  to  be  from  that  day 
considered  by  the  world  as  an  accession  to 
their  principles,  though  not  to  their  organized 
body." 

From  this  time  on,  events  in  anti-slavery 
circles  moved  swiftly.  In  February,  1837,  a 
woman  for  the  first  time  spoke  on  the  subject 
at  a  State  House  hearing,  the  lady  thus  dis- 
tinguished being  the  gifted  Angelina  Grimke, 
who  laid  down  the  important  and  far-reaching 
axiom  that  "  Whatever  is  morally  right  for  a 
man  to  do  is  morally  right  for  a  woman  to 
do."  She  added  that  she  recognized  no  rights 
but  human  rights  and  that,  in  her  opinion, 
the  time  had  gone  by  for  woman  to  be  "  a  second 
hand  agent  in  regenerating  the  world!  "    Inas- 


132  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

much  as  many  of  the  most  valued  workers  for 
the  anti -slavery  cause  had  long  been  women  it 
was  considered  by  the  Abolitionists  very  fitting 
that  this  woman,  who  knew  slavery  from 
intimate  childhood  association,  and  whose  pow- 
ers as  a  speaker  were  soon  famed  throughout 
the  country,  should  appear  at  a  Boston  hearing. 
But  the  other  side  did  not  enjoy  the  innovation. 
Lydia  Maria  Child  has  thus  described  the 
scene : 

"  The  house  was  full  to  overflowing.  For  a 
moment  her  sense  of  the  responsibility  resting 
on  her  seemed  almost  to  overwhelm  her.  She 
trembled  and  grew  pale.  But  this  passed 
quickly  and  she  went  on  to  speak  gloriously, 
showing,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  herself,  her 
own  earnest  faith  in  every  word  she  uttered, 
'  Whatever  comes  from  the  heart  goes  to  the 
heart.'  I  believe  she  made  a  very  powerful 
impression  on  the  audience.  Boston,  like  other 
cities  is  very  far  behind  the  country  towns  on 
this  subject;  so  much  so  that  it  is  getting  to 
be  Boston  vs.  Massachusetts,  as  the  lawyers 
say.  The  Boston  members  of  the  legislature 
tried  hard  to  prevent  her  having  a  hearing  on 
the  second  day.  Among  other  things,  they  said 
such  a  crowd  was  attracted  by  curiosity,  that 
the  galleries  were  in  danger  of  breaking  down, 
though  in  fact  they  are  constructed  with 
remarkable  strength.     A  member  from  Salem, 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  133 

perceiving  their  drift,  wittily  proposed  '  that 
a  committee  be  appointed  to  examine  the 
foundations  of  the  State  House  of  Massa- 
chusetts to  see  whether  it  will  bear  another 
lecture  from  Miss  Grimke.'  " 

One  interesting  result  of  the  increasing  ac- 
tivity of  women  in  Massachusetts  was  the 
famous  Pastoral  Letter  of  the  "  General  Associa- 
tion of  Massachusetts  to  the  Churches  Under 
Its  Care,"  an  appeal  which,  after  deploring 
the  slavery  agitation  generally,  invited  atten- 
tion particularly  "  to  the  dangers  which  at 
present  (1837)  seem  to  threaten  the  female 
character  with  widespread  and  permanent  in- 
jury." The  author  of  this  "  bull,"  issued  while 
the  Massachusetts  Orthodox  churches  were  in 
session  at  Brookfield,  was  Rev.  Dr.  Nehemiah 
Adams,  of  Boston,  who  earned  for  himself, 
by  his  truckling  to  the  slave  power,  the  sobriquet 
of  "  Southside  Adams."  This  gentleman  shows 
himself  in  his  "  Letter  "  immensely  solicitous 
for  the  beautiful  bloom  of  womanhood.  "  If 
the  vine  whose  strength  and  beauty  is  to  lean 
upon  the  trellis-work  and  half  conceal  its 
clusters  thinks  to  assume  the  independence  and 
the  overshadowing  nature  of  the  elm,  it  will 
not  only  cease  to  bear  fruit,"  he  declares, 
'  but  will  fall  in  shame  and  dishonor  to  the 
dust.  We  cannot,  therefore,  but  regret  the 
mistaken    conduct    of    those    who    encourage 


134  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

females  to  bear  an  obtrusive  and  ostentatious 
part  in  measures  of  reform  and  countenance 
any  of  that  sex  who  so  far  forget  themselves 
as  to  itinerate  in  the  character  of  public  lecturers 
and  teachers."  Maria  Weston  Chapman  wittily 
replied  to  this  pompous  fulmination  in  a  jingle 
which  she  called,  "  The  Times  that  Try  Men's 
Souls,"  and  signed  "  The  Lords  of  Creation." 
While  from  J.  G.  Whittier  came  the  stirring 
verses  beginning: 

"  So,  this  is  all,  —  the  utmost  reach, 
Of  priestly  power  the  mind  to  fetter ! 
When  laymen  think  —  when  women  preach  — 
A  war  of  words  —  a  Pastoral  Letter. 

"  A  Pastoral  Letter,  grave  and  dull  — 
Alas !  in  hoof  and  horns  and  features, 
How  different  is  your  Brookfield  bull, 
From  him  who  bellows  from  St.  Peter's! 

"  But  ye,  who  scorn  the  thrilling  tale 
Of  Carolina's  high-souled  daughters, 
Which  echoes  here  the  mournful  wail 

Of  sorrow  from  Edisto's  waters, 
Close  while  ye  may  the  public  ear,  — 

With  malice  vex,  with  slander  wound  them,  — 
The  pure  and  good  shall  throng  to  hear, 

And  tried  and  manly  hearts  surround  them." 

These  last  lines  were  prophetic.  For  the 
measures  taken  to  suppress  the  women  and  to 
stifle  the  voice  of  the  Abolitionists  only  served 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  135 

to  enlarge  their  meetings  and  to  win  to  their 
side  converts  of  greater  power  than  any  they 
had  yet  known. 

Chief  of  these  was  Wendell  Phillips,  who 
from  1837  on  was  the  spokesman  par  excellence 
of  the  anti-slavery  forces.  Mr.  Phillips'  con- 
version to  the  cause  came,  as  has  been  already 
said,  through  Miss  Ann  Terry  Greene,  whom  he 
married  on  October  12, 1837.  Ere  their  honey- 
moon was  over,  both  were  inexpressibly  shocked 
by  the  news  that  Rev.  Elijah  P.  Lovejoy,  a 
Presbyterian  clergyman  of  New  England  birth, 
who  in  the  church  organ  of  which  he  was 
editor  had  condemned  the  barbarous  burning 
of  a  negro  by  a  band  of  lynchers,  had  been 
himself  shot  down  by  a  mob  while  in  the  act 
of  defending  his  press  from  the  violence  of 
marauders.  The  South  openly  exulted  over 
this  appalling  act.  The  North  condemned  the 
mob  but  lamented  the  "  imprudence  "  of  the 
victim.  A  petition  signed  by  Dr.  Channing 
and  others,  asking  that  Faneuil  Hall  might  be 
assigned  them  for  a  meeting  in  which  to  protest 
against  this  violation  of  the  principles  of  liberty, 
was  rejected  by  the  Boston  authorities.  Where- 
upon Dr.  Channing  issued  an  appeal  to  the 
citizens  of  Boston,  calling  upon  them  to  reverse 
this  action  of  the  municipal  government.  Simul- 
taneously, a  meeting  at  the  Supreme  Court 
room,    presided    over    by    George    W.    Bond, 


136 


ROMANTIC  DAYS 


prepared  resolutions  demanding  that  the  mayor 
and  aldermen  change  their  course  and  give  the 
use  of  the  hall.  They  did  so  and  the  meeting 
was  held,  Jonathan  Phillips,  a  wealthy  kinsman 
of  Wendell  Phillips,  presiding. 

It  was  a  morning  meeting,  for  greater  safety's 
sake,  and  the  old  hall  was  full  to  suffocation. 
Dr.  Channing  made  an  impressive  address,  in 
which  he  showed  how  the  right  of  free  speech 
had  been  violated  by  the  murder  of  Lovejoy. 
Benjamin  F.  Hallett  and  George  S.  Hilliard 
followed  in  much  the  same  vein.  The  next 
speaker  was  James  Tricothic  Austin,  a  parish- 
ioner of  Dr.  Channing's  but  one  who  did  that 
saintly  man  little  credit  in  the  views  he  was 
now  to  set  forth.  For,  declaring  that  Lovejoy 
died  "  as  the  fool  dieth  "  and  that  the  men  who 
had  killed  him  were  as  great  patriots  as  those 
who  threw  the  tea  into  Boston  harbor,  he  had 
soon  drawn  to  applauding  approval  the  vast 
number  of  those  unthinking  and  inimical  folk 
who  had  come  to  the  meeting  because  they 
hoped  to  prevent  the  passage  of  the  Resolutions 
and  so  clog  the  progress  of  the  Abolition  cause 
whose  power  they  were  beginning  to  fear. 

Wendell  Phillips  had,  until  this  moment,  been 
standing  on  the  floor  with  the  other  listeners, 
but  he  now  leaped  upon  the  platform  and  pro- 
ceeded sternly  to  rebuke  the  speech  of  the 
demagogue,  Austin.    "  When  I  heard,"  said  he, 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  137 

"  the  gentleman  lay  down  principles  which 
placed  the  murderers  of  Alton  side  by  side  with 
Otis  and  Hancock,  with  Quincy  and  Adams,  I 
thought  those  pictured  lips,"  pointing  to  their 
portraits,  "  would  have  broken  into  voice  to 
rebuke  the  recreant  American,  the  slanderer 
of  the  dead."  And  then  followed  a  marvellous 
speech  of  which  Oliver  Johnson,  who  heard  it, 
has  said,  "  Never  before  did  the  walls  of  the 
old  '  Cradle  of  Liberty  '  echo  to  a  finer  strain 
of  eloquence.  It  was  a  speech  to  which  not  even 
the  completest  report  could  do  justice  .  .  .  and 
the  reporter  [present]  caught  only  a  pale  reflec- 
tion of  what  fell  from  the  orator's  lips." 

Yet  it  is  a  good  speech  to  read  even  in  its 
imperfect  form.  Mr.  Austin  had  said  that 
Lovejoy  had  acted  with  imprudence,  and  Phil- 
lips caught  this  up.  "  Imprudent  to  defend 
the  liberty  of  the  press!  Why?  Because  the 
defence  was  unsuccessful?  Does  success  gild 
crime  into  patriotism  and  want  of  it  change 
heroic  self-devotion  to  imprudence?  Was 
Hampden  imprudent  when  he  drew  the  sword 
and  threw  away  the  scabbard?  Yet  he,  judged 
by  that  single  hour,  was  unsuccessful.  After 
a  short  exile  the  race  he  hated  sat  again  upon 
the  throne.  Imagine  yourself  present  when 
the  first  news  of  Bunker  Hill  battle  reached  a 
New  England  town.  The  tale  would  have 
run  thus:     'The  patriots  are  routed;  the  red- 


138 


ROMANTIC  DAYS 


coats  victorious;  Warren  lies  dead  upon  the 
field.'  With  what  scorn  would  that  Tory  have 
been  received,  who  should  have  charged  Warren 
with  imprudence!  who  should  have  said  that, 
bred  as  a  physician,  he  was  '  out  of  place  '  in 
the  battle  and  '  died  as  the  fool  dieth ! '  How 
would  the  intimation  have  been  received  that 
Warren  and  his  associates  should  have  waited 
a  better  time?  But,  if  success  be  indeed  the 
only  criterion  of  prudence,  Respice  finem  — 
wait  till  the  end. 

"  Presumptuous  to  assert  the  freedom  of  the 
press  on  American  ground!  Is  the  assertion 
of  such  freedom  before  the  age?  So  much 
before  the  age  as  to  leave  one  no  right  to  make 
it  because  it  displeases  the  community?  Who 
invents  this  libel  on  his  country?  It  is  this 
very  thing  which  entitles  Love  joy  to  greater 
praise;  the  disputed  right  which  provoked 
the  Revolution  —  taxation  without  representa- 
tion —  is  far  beneath  that  for  which  he  died. 
(Here  there  was  a  strong  and  general  expression 
of  disapprobation.)  One  word,  gentlemen. 
As  much  as  thought  is  better  than  money,  so 
much  is  the  cause  in  which  Love  joy  died 
nobler  than  a  mere  question  of  taxes.  James 
Otis  thundered  in  this  hall  when  the  king  did 
but  touch  his  pocket.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  his 
indignant  eloquence  had  England  offered  to 
put  a  gag  upon  his  lips.     (Great  applause.)" 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  139 

And  then  Mr.  Phillips,  who  was  only  twenty- 
six  and  comparatively  unknown,  closed  with 
these  words,  "  I  am  glad,  sir,  to  see  this  crowded 
house.  It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here.  When 
liberty  is  in  danger,  Faneuil  Hall  has  the  right, 
it  is  her  duty,  to  strike  the  key-note  for  these 
United  States.  I  am  glad,  for  one  reason,  that 
remarks  such  as  those  to  which  I  have  alluded 
have  been  uttered  here.  The  passage  of  these 
resolutions,  in  spite  of  this  opposition,  led 
by  the  Attorney  General  of  the  Commonwealth, 
will  show  more  clearly,  more  decisively,  the 
deep  indignation  with  which  Boston  regards 
this  outrage." 

After  this  memorable  beginning,  Faneuil  Hall 
became,  each  year,  more  and  more  identified 
with  the  cause  of  the  Abolitionists.  On  its 
platform,  Garrison,  Sumner,  Theodore  Parker, 
Edmund  Quincy,  Douglass,  Higginson,  Howe 
and  John  A.  Andrew  —  to  name  only  a  few 
on  the  honorable  roll  —  reasserted  whenever 
their  testimony  would  help  the  principles  of 
anti-slavery  reform  and  defended  as  the  need 
of  the  moment  demanded  the  cause  of  freedom 
for  all  men. 

Another  long-venerated  Boston  structure 
which  had  deeply  stirring  associations  for  those 
concerned  with  this  struggle  of  the  slave  for 
freedom,  was  the  Old  Court  House.  Through 
the  east  door  of  this  building  was  effected  in  Feb- 


140  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

ruary,  1851,  the  rescue  of  Shadrach,  a  colored 
waiter  at  the  Cornhill  Coffee  House,  who  had 
been  arrested  as  a  fugitive  from  slavery  under 
the  law  which  Daniel  Webster  condemned  him- 
self by  supporting.  In  1851,  pending  the  trial 
of  Thomas  M.  Sims,  the  Court  House  was 
girdled  with  heavy  chains  to  prevent  another 
rescue,  and,  in  order  to  reach  their  tribunals 
of  justice,  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Massachusetts  were  obliged  to  stoop  under 
this  symbol  of  the  slave-holders'  supremacy 
even  in  a  non  slave-holding  State.  Many 
a  son  of  Boston,  however,  was  now  fired  with 
mighty  indignation  that  such  things  should  be, 
and,  on  the  next  occasion  when  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Law  was  to  be  enforced  in  their  city, 
determined  speeches  against  it  were  made  in 
Faneuil  Hall  and  a  careful  plan  for  rescuing 
Anthony  Burns,  the  victim,  was  formed.  Un- 
happily the  plan  did  not  succeed.  Though  a 
band  of  Abolitionists,  prominent  among  whom 
were  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  and  Lewis 
Hayden,  burst  open  the  middle  door  on  the 
west  side  of  the  Court  House  by  means  of  a 
heavy  beam  of  wood,  the  firing  of  a  shot  from 
some  unknown  quarter  precipitated  a  panic, 
and  the  rescuers'  organization  was  demoralized, 
with  the  result  that  poor  Burns  was  left  to  his 
keepers  and  his  fate.    An  eye  witness 1  who  was 

1  "  Cliftondale  "  in  the  Boston  Transcript. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  141 

on  his  way  to  school  describes  thus  the  rendition 
which  followed: 

"  In  passing  through  Court  Square  I  was 
surprised  at  seeing  a  crowd  of  men  and  boys 
in  that  generally  rather  quiet  thoroughfare. 
The  Cadets,  Colonel  Amory,  were  in  line  on 
the  City  Hall  side,  and  the  open,  upper  windows 
of  the  Court  House  were  filled  with  United 
States  marines  or  soldiers.  .  .  .  From  the  head 
of  State  Street  I  saw  State  troops  in  the  inter- 
secting streets,  guarding  that  thoroughfare. 
On  passing  down  Water  Street  I  found  the  City 
Guard.  j 

"  I  returned  to  the  square  in  time  to  witness 
a  procession  from  Worcester  in  which  a  stalwart 
colored  man  carried  a  banner  lettered  with  an 
anti-slavery  motto.  As  it  neared  me  a  man 
named  Allen,  a  stationer  on  State  Street  whose 
brother  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Boston  City 
Guard,  rushed  to  the  darkey,  drew  the  pole 
down  until  he  had  hold  of  the  cross-bar  and  the 
two  then  struggled  for  the  possession  of  the 
banner.  Others  on  both  sides  took  part,  and 
after  a  small  riot  that  and  other  banners  were 
torn  to  shreds  and  the  pieces  scattered  among  the 
crowd  as  souvenirs  of  the  occasion,  and  the 
members  of  the  procession  merged  with  the 
crowd  like  a    (  dissolving  view.' 

"  Another  procession  soon  emerged  from  the 
Court  House  door,  with  Burns  as  the  central 


142  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

figure,  preceded  by  police  and  United  States 
marshals,  and  surrounded  by  United  States 
troops.  I  was  in  the  immediate  rear  and  against 
the  rope  drawn  across  State  Street  when  the 
procession  had  entered  it  and  I  watched  till  it 
reached  the  wharf,  as  it  had  been  threatened 
that  bottles  of  vitriol  would  be  thrown  from 
upper  windows  upon  it;  but  I  did  not  witness 
any  such  proceeding.  If  ever  '  State  Rights  ' 
were  violated,  though,  they  were  on  that  oc- 
casion." 

Miss  Martha  Russell,  a  newspaper  corre- 
spondent of  the  period,  whose  heart  was  in  the 
right  place  and  who  was  endowed  with  a 
sprightly  style,  wrote  thus  categorically  of  what 
happened  just  before  Burns  was  led  away: 

"Boston,  May  26,  1854. 
"Dear  Friends: — 1  have  a  great  many  things 
to  say  to  you  and  scarcely  know  where  to 
begin.  I  am  in  a  great  '  whew,'  as  Aunt 
Lydia  used  to  say.  There  is  a  fugitive  slave 
now  confined  in  Boston  Court  House,  and 
has  been  there  ever  since  Wednesday  night. 
His  master  came  on,  brought  a  man  with 
him  and  *  nabbed  '  him  at  once.  He  was 
going  off  with  him  but  Mr.  Dana  interfered, 
and  tomorrow  he  will  have  his  trial.  The 
whole  city  is  in  excitement;  to-night  there  is 
a  great  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall  of  all  parties, 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  143 

a  regular  indignation  meeting,  and  I  am  going. 
They  have  not  put  chains  about  the  Court 
House  yet,  as  they  did  when  they  took  Sims, 
but  many  people  think  there  will  be  bloodshed 
before  they  get  through.  I  shall  go  up  to  the 
Commonwealth  office  tomorrow,  and  as  those 
windows  command  a  view  of  State  Street  and 
Court  Street,  I  shall  see  all  the  proceedings 
that  can  be  seen  outside  the  Court  House.  If 
Boston  people  allow  another  fugitive  slave  to 
be  taken  from  here,  and  just  now  when  that 
rascally  Nebraska  bill  has  passed,  they  de- 
serve to  be  hung  as  high  as  were  the  Salem 
witches. 

"  I  have  been  noticing  books  this  forenoon. 
Mr.  Giddings,  Mr.  Hale  and,  I  think,  Mr. 
Whittier,  will  be  in  town  this  week.  I  hope 
to  see  them.  The  anniversaries  of  the  different 
moral  and  benevolent  societies  are  held  here 
next  week.  I  wish  you  could  hear  some  of 
the  speeches.  I  go  to  hear  Theodore  Parker 
preach. 

"  Men  say  that  he  is  not  orthodox  and  all 
that;  he  says  some  things  I  do  not  believe, 
yet  he  never  gives  his  hearers  a  stone  when 
they  ask  for  bread.  He  is  a  noble,  fearless, 
but  somewhat  impulsive  man.  I  care  less  for 
his  theological  notions  and  dogmas  than  I  do 
for  the  great  human  heart  within  him. 


144  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

u  Sunday  morning.  I  hoped  by  this  time 
to  tell  you  that  the  fugitive  slave  was  free,  but 
he  is  now  in  the  Court  House,  guarded  by  three 
companies  of  troops  —  the  marines  from  the 
navy  yard,  the  regular  United  States  troops 
from  Governor's  Island  and  a  company  of 
volunteers.  The  city  is  one  great  ferment. 
On  Friday  evening  I  went  to  Faneuil  Hall.  As 
I  expected,  the  hall  was  a  dense  jam;  there  are 
no  seats  on  the  lower  floors  and  the  whole 
surface  was  packed  with  men  standing.  The 
galleries,  the  window-sills,  the  ante-rooms,  were 
crowded  with  men  and  women,  and  outside  was 
a  great  crowd  that  could  not  get  in  at  all,  so 
they  made  speeches  out  there.  The  meeting 
was  organized  by  appointing  George  Russell  of 
Roxbury  chairman.  There  were  several 
speakers,  among  them  Wendell  Phillips  and 
Theodore  Parker.  Dr.  Howe  read  the  resolu- 
tions. I  liked  Mr.  Phillips  best  of  all.  There 
seemed  but  one  voice  among  speakers  and 
people  and  that  was  that  the  slave,  Anthony 
Burns,  should  not  go  back  to  Virginia.  Such 
shouts  and  groans  and  hisses  and  cries  of,  '  To 
the  Court  House !  '  '  Let  us  free  him  tonight ! ' 
It  was  all  Wendell  Phillips  could  do,  with  his 
wondrous  eloquence,  to  pacify  them  and  show 
them  the  madness  of  an  attempt  to  rescue  him 
until  after  he  had  had  his  mockery  of  a  trial. 
Before  he  had  done  speaking  a  man  crowded 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  145 

himself  into  the  doorway  crying  that  there  was 
a  crowd  collected  around  the  Court  House  in 
Court  Square,  and  they  were  about  to  attack 
the  Court  House.  There  was  one  general  rush 
for  the  door.  When  we  got  out,  which  was 
not  until  among  the  last,  the  crowd  were 
hurrying  up  to  the  Court  House.  We  came 
up  to  the  Commonwealth  office.  There  was 
a  crowd  up  there  but  we  gave  them  a  wide 
berth  and  came  home,  meeting  on  the  way  a 
company  of  military.  Another  passed  the 
house  soon  after  we  reached  it.  The  crowd  at- 
tacked the  Court  House,  broke  one  door,  broke 
windows,  etc.,  and  were  met  by  persons  who 
were  guarding  the  prisoner,  the  tools  of  the 
United  States  marshal,  who  was  there  himself,  all 
armed  with  revolvers  and  swords.  There  were 
some  pistols  fired  and  one  man  killed.  The 
man  killed  was  said  to  have  been  inside  the 
house  and  one  of  the  men  hired  to  guard  the 
prisoner.  The  alarm  bells  were  rung  [and]  as 
soon  as  possible,  the  mayor  was  there  with 
the  police.  The  mayor  then  ordered  out  two 
or  three  companies  of  military  troops,  while  the 
United  States  marshal  sent  for  more  marines 
and  for  more  regulars.  None  of  the  city  troops 
volunteered  to  help  the  marshal,  but  a  company 
of  foreigners.  The  services  of  these  were 
accepted  and  they  were  quartered  in  the  Court 
House,  to  the  great  exasperation  of  the  citizens. 


146  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

The  city  troops  guard  the  building  and  try  to 
keep  the  peace. 

'  Yesterday  morning  at  the  hour  appointed 
for  the  trial  the  crowd  about  the  Court  House 
was  very  great;  but  every  avenue  was  guarded 
and  at  the  upper  windows  soldiers  were  looking 
down.  Commissioner  Loring  would  let  no 
one  in  on  the  prisoner's  behalf  if  he  could  help 
it  and  so  much  did  Mr.  Dana  1  who  had  taken 
up  the  prisoner's  defence,  make  of  this  point, 
that  they  finally  granted  a  postponement  until 
Monday  in  order  that  he  might  prepare  for 
the  defence.  So  all  day  yesterday  the  Court 
House  was  guarded,  and  it  is  said  that  the 
marshal  has  sent  to  Newport  for  more  troops. 
I  did  not  go  up  street  in  the  morning  as  I  had 
planned,  for  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  wise, 
but  when  my  friends  came  home  they  said 
I  might  have  gone.  I  went  just  at  sunset 
up  to  the  Common  and  then  down  past  the 
Court  House.  The  troops  were  drawn  up 
before  the  door  that  was  battered  down  the 
night  before  and  there  was  a  crowd  that 
was  constantly  increasing.  There  was  a 
rumor  that  Wendell  Phillips'  house  was  to 
be  attacked  and  J.  went  with  some  others 
to  buy  Colt's  revolvers.  These  gentlemen  were 
going  to  stay  in  Mr.  Phillips'  house  to 
guard  it. 

1  Richard  H.  Dana,  Jr. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  147 

"  C.  has  been  up  to  the  square  this  morning. 
There  were  not  many  people  about  and  all 
was  quiet.  He  heard  that  the  merchants  of 
Boston  had  offered  the  master  his  price  for 
the  slave,  $1,200,  for  which  he  offered  to  sell 
him  Friday,  and  that  now  he  refuses  to  take 
that  and  wants  them  to  pay  all  his  expenses 
besides.  If  I  had  my  way  I  would  take  that 
slaveholder  down  to  the  old  Liberty  Tree  on 
the  corner  where  they  used  to  take  Tories, 
with  a  halter  round  his  neck  and  ride  him  on 
a  rail  out  of  town.  That  would  be  all  the  coin 
he  would  get  from  me  for  his  slave.  I  am 
ashamed  of  their  trying  to  buy  him.  The 
Whigs  and  Democrats  are  as  much  excited 
about  the  matter  as  the  anti-slavery  people, 
indeed,  it  is  said  they  complain  of  the  luke- 
warmness  of  the  Free  Soilers.  They  want  the 
Free  Soilers  to  go  ahead  while  they  stand  behind 
the  corner  and  cry  '  Go  ahead!  '  The  Free 
Soilers  have  done  it  in  the  times  gone  by  and 
they  are  ready  to  do  it  now,  though  they 
would  like  someone  to  cooperate.  Mr.  B. 
very  much  deplores  the  outbreak  Friday  night; 
he  thought  the  tone  of  some  of  the  speeches 
made  at  Faneuil  Hall  Friday  night  very  in- 
judicious, and  indeed  the  outbreak  has  done 
much  to  lessen  the  chance  of  the  poor  fellow's 
rescue.  Tomorrow  we  shall  see  what  will  be 
done.    I  am  to  go  to  the  office  in  the  morning 


148  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

to  see  the  crowd  and  will  write  you  all  about 
it.  Very  truly  yours, 

"Martha  Russell."1 

The  trifling  advantages  gained  by  slavery 
from  such  renditions  as  that  of  Burns  were 
vastly  outweighed  by  the  indignation  against 
the  slave-power  and  all  its  abettors  which 
was  fed  by  these  transactions.  In  all  ages  and 
nations  it  has  been  held  odious  to  return  fugi- 
tives into  the  hands  of  their  oppressors,  and  no 
matter  how  eloquently  a  Daniel  Webster  might 
argue  in  a  Seventh  of  March  speech  that  it 
was  the  constitutional  duty  of  Massachusetts 
strictly  to  enforce  the  extradition  law,  the 
awakened  conscience  of  Boston  cried  out  against 
such  acts.  To  urge  the  enforcement  of  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  now  the  surest  way 
to  engender  violent  resistance  to  it.  Moreover, 
there  was  very  good  ground  for  belief  that 
the  law  was  unconstitutional  in  its  provisions. 
The  United  States  Constitution  had  provided 
that  "  no  person  shall  be  deprived  of  his  liberty 
without  due  process  of  law  "  and  that  "  in  all 
suits  at  common  law  where  the  value  in  con- 
troversy shall  exceed  twenty  dollars,  the  right 
of  trial  by  jury  shall  be  preserved."  Yet  Sims 
and  Burns  were  deprived  of  their  liberty  without 

1  In  a  letter  to  friends  in  North  Brandford,  Connecticut,  quoted 
in  the  Notes  and  Queries  department  of  the  Boston  Transcript 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  149 

seeing  either  judge  or  jury!  This  disregard  of 
the  rights  of  the  slave  when  in  a  free  State  it 
was  which  started  in  many  minds  the  new 
and  disturbing  thought  that,  sooner  or  later, 
force  would  have  to  be  met  by  force.  How  that 
thought  constantly  grew  in  power  is  the  story 
of  the  next  ten  years  in  Boston. 


CHAPTER  V 

WENDELL   PHILLIPS:    AGITATOR 

ALTHOUGH  "  agitating  "  was  not  a  tra- 
dition in  the  Phillips  family,  loying  and 
serving  Boston  was.  Very  early  the  lad 
who  was  to  do  so  much  for  the  cause  of  the 
slave  began  to  show  enthusiasm  for  the  glorious 
name  and  goodly  fame  of  the  city  which  had 
chosen  his  father  for  its  first  mayor.  Born 
(Nov.  29,  1811)  in  the  stately  house  of  colonial 
design  which  still  stands  at  the  corner  of 
Beacon  and  Walnut  Streets,  Wendell  Phillips 
grew  up  with  the  historic  Common  for  a  play- 
ground, and  with  J.  Lothrop  Motley  and  Thomas 
Gold  Appleton,  lads  destined,  like  himself,  to 
hold  an  honored  place  upon  the  rolls  of  Boston's 
famous  men,  for  play-fellows.  "  Wendell  Phil- 
lips, Motley  and  I,"  Appleton  has  recorded, 
"  used  to  frolic  in  the  gallery  of  the  Motley 
House  [at  the  corner  of  Walnut  and  Chestnut 
Streets]  and  I  recall  that  their  favorite  pastime 
used  to  be  to  strut  about  in  any  fancy  costume 
they  could  find  in  the  corners  of  the  old  attic 
and   shout   scraps   of   poetry   and    snatches  of 


IN   OLD   BOSTON  151 

dialogue  at  each  other.  It  was  a  fine  sight  to 
watch  them,  for  both  were  noble-looking  fellows; 
and  even  then  Wendell's  voice  was  a  very 
pleasant  one  to  listen  to,  and  his  gestures  as 
graceful  as  could  be." 

When  young  Phillips  was  eleven  he  began  to 
attend  the  Boston  Public  Latin  School  which 
(till  1844)  stood  on  School  Street  upon  a  portion 
of  the  ground  now  occupied  by  the  Parker  House. 
An  impressionable  lad  always,  he  was  wont  to 
think  much  as  he  went  back  and  forth  to 
school  of  the  famous  dead  who  had  made 
Boston  what  it  was.  "  Boston  boys  had  reason 
to  be  thankful  for  their  birthright,"  he  declared 
in  referring  to  these  memories.  "  The  noble 
deeds  and  sacred  places  of  the  old  town  are 
the  poetry  of  history  and  the  keenest  ripeners 
of  character."  Such,  at  any  rate,  they  proved 
to  be  in  his  case.  And  the  mere  contemplation 
of  Faneuil  Hall  and  the  Old  South  Church 
strengthened  in  him  his  early  determination  to 
be  a  great  orator  even  as  James  Otis  and  Dr. 
Warren  had  been.  "  What  led  me  first  to 
observe  him,"  a  fellow-student  has  said,  "  was 
his  elocution;  and  I  soon  came  to  look  forward 
to  declamation  day  with  interest,  mainly  on 
his  account.  The  pieces  chosen  were  chiefly 
such  as  would  excite  patriotic  feelings  and  an 
enthusiasm  for  freedom."  Wendell  Phillips, 
however,  did  not  need  to  have  such  "  pieces  " 


152  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

chosen  for  him.  Already  he  had  studied  and 
committed  most  of  the  famous  speeches  of 
history,  and  he  lost  no  opportunity  to  go  where 
he  could  hear  such  speeches  pronounced  by  the 
great  men  of  his  own  time  and  town.  Like 
the  younger  Pitt  he  made  the  study  of  oratory 
the  diversion  of  his  boyhood.  Hearing  Harrison 
Gray  Otis  or  Edward  Everett  talk  of  policies 
and  politics  in  Boston  was  to  him  as  fascinating 
an  occupation  as  visiting  the  circus  is  to  the 
country  lad  who  has  been  performing  acrobatic 
stunts  with  the  old  farm  horse. 

When  Wendell  was  fourteen  a  very  great 
thing  happened  to  Boston;  Washington's  friend, 
Lafayette,  came  to  be  the  guest  of  the  city. 
In  a  charming  address  made,  years  afterwards, 
to  an  audience  of  schoolchildren  in  Music  Hall, 
Phillips  thus  recalled  this  stirring  occasion,  and 
no  one  of  us  who  has  ever  been  a  hero-wor- 
shipper can  listen  coldly  to  his  words:  "  I  was 
a  little  boy  in  a  class  in  the  Latin  School  at  the 
time  and  we  were  turned  out  on  yonder  Com- 
mon in  a  grand  procession  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  And  for  what?  Not  to  hear  fine 
music  —  no;  but  for  something  better  than 
music,  that  thrilled  more  than  eloquence  —  a 
sight  which  should  live  in  the  memory  forever, 
the  best  sight  which  Boston  ever  saw  —  the 
welcome  of  Lafayette  on  his  return  to  this 
country,  after  an  absence  of  a  score  of  years. 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  153 

I  can  boast,  boys  and  girls,  more  than  you.  I 
can  boast  that  these  eyes  have  beheld  the  hero 
of  three  revolutions,  this  hand  has  touched 
the  right  hand  that  held  up  Hancock  and 
Washington.  Not  all  this  glorious  celebration 
can  equal  that  glad  reception  of  the  nation's 
benefactor  by  all  that  Boston  could  offer  him  — 
a  sight  of  her  children.  It  was  a  long  procession; 
and,  unlike  other  processions,  we  started  punc- 
tually at  the  hour  published.  They  would  not 
let  us  wander  about  and  did  not  wish  us  to 
sit  down.  I  there  received  my  first  lesson  in 
hero-worship.  I  was  so  tired  after  four  hours' 
waiting  I  could  scarcely  stand;  but  when  I 
saw  him  —  that  glorious  old  Frenchman !  —  I 
could  have  stood  until  today." 

At  sixteen  the  boy  entered  Harvard  and 
formed  that  friendship  with  Edmund  Quincy, 
the  president's  son,  which  was  to  mean  so 
much  to  both  as  well  as  to  the  Abolition  cause. 
In  college,  however,  Phillips  was  still  what  he 
had  been  made  by  the  circumstances  of  his  life, 
a  proud  leader  of  the  aristocracy,  a  handsome, 
well-born,  well  bred  lad  who,  though  dis- 
tinguished above  all  his  mates  for  purity  of 
character  and  earnestness  of  purpose,  seemed 
predestined  to  conservatism  and  to  a  prosperous 
career  as  the  defender  of  the  rights  of  those  who 
possessed,  —  and  who  wished  to  retain.  Such 
a  youth,  of  blue  Boston  blood,  went  naturally, 


154  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

then  as  now,  after  being  graduated  from  college 
into  the  Harvard  Law  School,  and  Phillips 
proved  no  exception  to  the  rule.  At  college 
Charles  Sumner  had  been  one  of  Phillips' 
friends  and  in  the  Law  School  the  two  continued 
their  intimacy  counting  themselves  very  for- 
tunate to  be  students  together  under  Judge 
Story,  the  legal  luminary  of  that  day.  When 
Phillips  had  completed  his  course  the  judge 
foretold  for  him  an  unprecedented  career,  little 
thinking  in  how  extraordinary  a  sense  the 
prophecy  was  to  be  a  true  one. 

A  trip  to  Philadelphia  followed  Phillips' 
release  from  studies  and,  on  his  way  home  after 
its  enjoyment,  he  made  the  acquaintance,  in 
New  York,  of  Aaron  Burr.  The  slayer  of 
Hamilton  was  exceedingly  polite  to  the  young 
law  graduate,  showing  him  the  sights  of  the 
metropolis  and  otherwise  making  him  feel  at 
home.  Thus  it  was  that,  when  Burr  came  to 
Boston  for  a  visit,  soon  after  Phillips'  return, 
the  younger  man  called  on  him  at  the  Tremont 
House  and  returned  the  courtesies.  Among 
other  places  he  took  Burr  to  the  Athenaeum,  then 
on  Pearl  Street,  to  see  the  treasures  of  the  place. 
"  As  they  walked  down  the  hall  between  the 
alcoves,"  records  F.  B.  Sanborn  (in  his  Recol- 
lections of  Wendell  Phillips)  "  Phillips  caught 
sight  of  a  bust  of  Hamilton,  one  of  the  orna- 
ments of  the  library,  which  he  had  forgotten  was 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  156 

there.  He  tried  on  some  pretext  to  draw  Burr 
in  another  direction;  but  he,  too,  had  seen  the 
bust  and  marched  straight  up  to  it.  He  stood 
facing  it  for  a  moment,  then  turned  and  said : 
'  A  remarkable  man  —  a  very  remarkable 
man.'  "  After  which  he  wheeled  about  and 
walked  composedly  away. 

The  old  sign  "Wendell  Phillips:  Office" 
which  hung  outside  the  Court  Street  building 
in  which  the  young  man  began  his  law  practice, 
still  hangs  against  the  bricks  of  a  Boston  wall. 
Now,  however,  its  owner  is  the  keeper  of  an 
"  old  curiosity  shop "  on  Park  Street,  just 
opposite  the  State  House,  and  the  fact  that 
he  will  not  sell  the  sign  for  any  sum  whatever,  — 
because  of  its  value  to  him  as  an  advertisement, 
—  proves  that  Wendell  Phillips'  name  is  still 
one  to  conjure  with  in  Boston.  Seventy-five 
years  ago,  also,  the  sign  "  drew  business." 
During  his  first  two  seasons  of  practice  the 
young  lawyer  paid  all  his  own  expenses;  and 
he  was  beginning  to  get  cases  with  fame  as  well 
as  fees  attached  to  them  when  what  some  would 
call  chance  and  others  Providence  arrested  the 
current  of  his  life  and  turned  it  in  quite  another 
direction.  Sumner,  as  has  been  said,  was 
Phillips'  warm  friend.  He  had  an  office  near 
by  at  4  Court  Street  and  they  were  often  to- 
gether. One  day,  as  they  sat  chatting  in  Phil- 
lips' office,  a  mutual  friend  burst  in,  informed 


156  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

them  of  his  engagement  to  a  Miss  Grew  of 
Greenfield  and  added  that,  with  his  fiancee 
and  a  cousin  of  hers,  a  Miss  Ann  Terry  Greene, 
he  was  to  make  a  stage  journey  to  Greenfield 
on  the  morrow. 

"  But  you  know,"  he  added,  "  that  in  my  con- 
dition '  two's  company,'  etc.,  and  I  wish  you 
to  go,  both  of  you,  and  take  care  of  the  other 
lady.  She  will  require  the  two  of  you,  for  she  is 
the  cleverest,  loveliest  girl  you  ever  met.  But 
I  warn  you  that  she  is  a  rabid  Abolitionist. 
Look  out  or  she  will  talk  you  both  into  that  ism 
before  you  suspect  what  she  is  at." 

Goodnaturedly,  the  two  young  men  promised 
to  be  on  hand  next  morning  and  to  entertain 
the  fair  Abolitionist  while  the  fiances  enjoyed 
each  other.  But  when  the  next  day  dawned  in 
a  furious  rainstorm,  Sumner  faithlessly  kept 
his  comfortable  bed  and  Wendell  Phillips  had, 
all  to  himself,  during  the  long  journey,  the 
attention  and  the  conversation  of  Miss  Ann 
Terry  Greene.  As  it  happened,  his  mind  was 
hospitably  inclined  towards  the  Abolition  argu- 
ments with  which  she  plied  him,  for  he  had  been 
a  witness  to  the  indignities  heaped  upon  Gar- 
rison by  the  "  broadcloth  mob  "  and  so  was 
theoretically  on  the  anti-slavery  side.  But 
the  burning  words  of  this  gentle  girl,  who  had 
herself  been  in  the  little  company  of  women 
whose  meeting  the  mob  had  interrupted,  awoke 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  157 

an  unwonted  response  in  his  soul  and,  finding 
that  she  lived  in  Boston,  he  asked  and  received 
permission  to  call  on  her.  Carlos  Martyn,  to 
whose  vivid  Life  of  Wendell  Phillips  I  am 
indebted  for  this  anecdote  of  a  romance  at  its 
dawn,  says  that  Phillips  confessed,  after  he  had 
married  the  lady,  "  Yes,  my  wife  made  an  out 
and  out  Abolitionist  of  me,  and  she  always 
preceded  me  in  the  adoption  of  the  various 
causes  I  have  advocated."  But  Mrs.  Phillips 
was  never  in  the  public  gaze  after  their  mar- 
riage, —  long  invalidism  claimed  her,  poor  lady ! 
For  the  rest  of  her  days  she  was  able  to  serve 
only  through  her  husband. 

Phillips'  maiden  speech  for  the  anti-slavery 
cause  was  made,  June  14,  1837,  in  Lynn.  Four 
months  later  he  and  Miss  Greene  were  married, 
and  ere  their  honeymoon  was  over  he  came  out 
at  Faneuil  Hall,  as  has  been  related  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  for  Garrison,  for  freedom 
and  for  the  slave. 

The  cause  of  Woman,  also,  was  one  which 
Phillips  early  espoused.  Allusion  has  already 
been  made  to  the  fine  quality  of  the  women 
in  the  anti-slavery  movement  and  to  their 
tenacity  of  purpose  in  pushing  this  reform. 
It  is  as  if  they  had  resolved  to  illustrate  afresh 
the  truth  of  Luther's  saying,  "  I  have  often- 
times noted  when  women  espouse  a  cause  they 
are  far  more  fervent  in  faith,  they  hold  to  it 


158  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

more  stiff  and  fast  than  men  do;  as  we  see  in 
the  lovely  Magdalen  who  was  more  hearty  and 
bold  than  Peter  himself."  But  though  the 
anti-slavery  societies  welcomed  women  they 
gave  them  no  voice  and  no  vote,  when  it  came 
to  be  a  question  of  electing  officers  and  shaping 
policies.  Some  of  the  women  resented  this,  — 
just  as  they  so  long  resented  the  necessity 
of  obeying  laws  they  had  had  no  chance  at 
making.  Phillips  among  the  first  saw  the  justice 
of  the  women's  claim.  In  a  letter  written  in 
1838  (to  Arthur  Tappan)  he  states  unmis- 
takably his  view  of  this  matter,  "  Since  woman 
is  interested  equally  with  man  in  righting  the 
wrongs  of  slavery;  since  among  the  blacks  she 
suffers  vitally  as  wife  and  mother,  as  daughter 
and  sister,  just  as  he  does  as  husband  and 
father,  as  son  and  brother;  why  is  she  not 
entitled  to  utter  her  indignation  anywhere, 
everywhere,  and  most  of  all  in  anti-slavery 
committee-rooms  and  upon  anti-slavery  plat- 
forms? " 

A  capital  opportunity  to  take  a  notable  stand 
on  this  important  matter  now  came  Phillips' 
way.  He  was  accredited  the  representative 
abroad  of  the  anti-slavery  movement  and 
after  a  year  spent  in  travelling  up  and  down 
Europe  in  the  hope  of  benefiting  Mrs.  Phillips' 
health  the  two  found  themselves  (June,  1840)  in 
London  for  the  meeting  of  the  World's  Anti- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  159 

Slavery  Convention.  The  call  to  this  convention 
had  been  addressed  to  "  friends  of  the  slave  of 
every  nation  and  of  every  clime."  Accordingly, 
when  the  various  American  societies  appointed 
delegates  they  sent  women  as  well  as  men, 
following  their  recent  resolution  on  this  matter. 
Garrison  and  Phillips  were  among  the  men 
appointed,  Mrs.  Phillips  and  Mrs.  Chapman 
among  the  women.  But  when  Wendell  Phillips 
proceeded  to  present  the  credentials  of  the 
delegates  he  found  that  women  were  not  ex- 
pected to  sit  with  the  body.  This  was  his 
opportunity  and  he  decided  to  appeal  the 
matter  to  the  convention  itself.  On  the  morning 
the  convention  was  to  open  his  wife  instructed 
him  as  he  left  their  boarding-place: 

"  Wendell,  don't  shilly-shally." 

He  obeyed  her.  In  a  speech  which  has 
become  historic  as  the  first  ever  made  by  a 
man  in  advocacy  of  the  rights  of  women  he 
declared  that,  with  the  delegates  from  Massa- 
chusetts, this  was  a  matter  of  conscience. 
"  We  think  it  right  for  women  to  sit  by  our  side 
in  America,"  he  asserted,  "  and  we  think  it 
right  for  them  to  do  the  same  here.  We  could 
not  go  back  to  America  to  ask  for  any  aid  from 
the  women  of  Massachusetts  if  we  had  deserted 
them  when  they  chose  to  send  out  their  own 
sisters  as  their  representatives  here."  None  the 
less,  it  was  decreed  that  women  should  be  wel- 


160  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

corned  to  the  galleries  only,  and  then  merely 
as  spectators,  not  as  participants  in  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Convention.  Garrison  had  been 
detained  at  sea  by  storms  and  did  not  reach 
London  until  the  Convention  was  nearing  its 
end,  but  as  soon  as  he  learned  that  the  cre- 
dentials of  the  women  delegates  had  been  dis- 
honored he  declared  that,  he,  too,  would  sit 
in  the  gallery.  Afterwards  he  said,  "  If  there 
is  any  one  act  of  my  life  of  which  I  am  par- 
ticularly proud  it  is  in  refusing  to  join  such  a 
body  [the  London  Conference]  on  terms  which 
were  manifestly  reproachful  to  my  constituents 
and  unjust  to  the  cause  of  liberty."  Necessarily, 
however,  that  gallery  where  the  head  of  the 
American  Abolitionists  sat  surrounded  by  the 
excluded  women-delegates  became  one  of  the 
most  interesting  places  in  the  hall! 

To  the  stand  which  Phillips  and  Garrison 
had  taken  upon  this  mooted  matter  Daniel 
O'Connell  the  great  Irish  liberator  rallied  also, 
it  is  interesting  to  note,  though  at  first  his  feeling 
had  been  against  accrediting  the  women.  His 
support  naturally  strengthened  the  great  admira- 
tion which  Phillips  had  for  him,  an  admiration 
which  was  to  do  much,  in  America,  for  the 
young  orator,  as  well  as  for  the  famous  Irishman. 

The  summer  of  1841  found  the  Phillipses 
back  in  Boston  making  preparations  to  begin 
housekeeping.    Mrs.  Phillips  had  inherited  from 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  161 

her  father  a  modest  brick  house  at  26  Essex 
Street  and  here  they  took  up  their  abode. 
The  Garrisons,  the  Chapmans  and  the  Lorings 
were  all  within  five  minutes'  walk,  and  later 
Theodore  Parker,  also,  was  to  be  a  near  neigh- 
bor. Phillips  greatly  enjoyed  his  home.  To 
Miss  Elizabeth  Pease,  a  friend  whom  he  and 
Mrs.  Phillips  had  made  in  England,  he  wrote: 

"  November  25,  1841. 
"  I  am  writing  in  our  own  parlor  —  wish  you 
were  in  it  —  on  Thanksgiving  Day.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  that  name?  'Tis  an  old  custom  in 
New  England,  begun  to  thank  God  for  a 
providential  arrival  of  food  from  the  mother- 
country  in  sixteen  hundred  and  odd  year,  and 
perpetuated  now,  wherever  a  New  Englander 
dwells,  some  time  in  autumn,  by  the  Governor's 
appointment.  All  is  hushed  of  business  about 
me;  the  devout  pass  the  morning  at  church; 
those  who  have  wandered  to  other  cities  hurry 
back  to  worship  to-day  where  their  fathers 
knelt,  and  gather  sons  and  grandsons,  to  the 
littlest  prattler,  under  the  old  roof -tree  to  — 
shall  I  break  the  picture?  —  cram  as  much 
turkey  and  plum-pudding  as  possible;  a  sort 
of  compromise  by  Puritan  love  of  good  eating 
for  denying  itself  that  '  wicked  papistrie ' 
Christmas."  x 

1  Memorial  of  Ann  Phillips. 


162  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

A  pleasant  little  glimpse  of  the  young  couple's 
life  together  at  "  No.  26  "  as  they  often  called 
it  to  their  friends  is  afforded  by  this  letter  of 
Mrs.  Phillips  to  Miss  Pease:  "  There  is  your 
Wendell  seated  in  the  arm-chair,  lazy  and 
easy  as  ever,  perhaps  a  little  fatter  than  when 
you  saw  him,  still  protesting  how  he  was  ruined 
by  marrying.  Your  humble  servant  looks  like 
the  Genius  of  Famine,  as  she  always  did,  one 
of  Pharaoh's  lean  kine.  She  laughs  consider- 
ably, continues  in  health  in  the  same  naughty 
way,  has  been  pretty  well  for  her  this  winter. 
Now  what  do  you  think  her  life  is?  Why,  she 
strolls  out  a  few  steps  occasionally,  calling  it 
a  walk;  the  rest  of  the  time  from  bed  to  sofa, 
from  sofa  to  rocking-chair;  reads,  generally,  the 
Standard  and  Liberator,  and  that  is  pretty  much 
all  the  literature  her  aching  head  will  allow 
her  to  peruse;  rarely  writes  a  letter,  sees  no 
company,  makes  no  calls,  looks  forward  to 
spring  and  birds,  when  she  will  be  a  little 
freer;  is  cross  very  often,  pleasant  at  other 
times,  loves  her  dear  L —  and  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  her;   and  now  you  have  Ann  Phillips. 

"  Now  I'll  take  up  another  strain.  This 
winter  has  been  marked  to  us  by  our  keeping 
house  the  first  time.  I  call  it  housekeeping; 
but,  alas!  we  have  not  the  pleasure  of  enter- 
taining angels,  awares  or  unawares.  We  have 
a  small  house,  but  large  enough  for  us,  only  a 


TEE    HOME    OF    WENDELL    PHILLIPS,    WHICH    STOOD    AT    26    ESSEX 
STREET. 

Mr.  Phillips  is  shown  just  entering  the  door. 


wendell  Phillips'  study. 
From  a  photograph. 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  163 

few  rooms  furnished  —  just  enough  to  try  to 
make  me  more  comfortable  than  at  board. 
But  then  I  am  not  well  enough  even  to  have 
friends  to  tea,  so  that  all  that  I  strive  to  do  is 
to  keep  the  house  neat  and  to  keep  myself 
about.  I  have  attended  no  meetings  since  I 
helped  to  fill  '  the  negro  pew.'  What  anti- 
slavery  news  I  get,  I  get  second-hand.  I 
should  not  get  along  at  all,  so  great  is  my 
darkness,  were  it  not  for  Wendell  to  tell  me 
that  the  world  is  still  going  on.  .  .  .  We  are 
very  happy,  and  only  have  to  regret  my  health 
being  so  poor  and  our  own  sinfulness.  Dear 
Wendell  speaks  whenever  he  can  leave  me,  and 
for  his  sake  I  sometimes  wish  I  were  myself 
again;  but  I  dare  say  it  is  all  right  as  it  is."  * 
The  Standard,  to  which  allusion  has  here  been 
made,  was  the  organ  of  that  faction  of  the 
Abolitionists  which  had  withdrawn  from  the 
Garrisonian  camp.  Phillips  remained  the  at- 
torney-general of  the  Boston  forces  whose 
organ  was  The  Liberator,  and  in  that  capacity 
he  was  very  glad  soon  to  be  the  spokesman  at 
Faneuil  Hall  of  the  seventy  thousand  Irishmen 
who,  with  Daniel  O'Connell  and  Father  Mathew 
at  their  head,  had  sent  over  to  their  fellow 
countrymen  here  an  urgent  appeal  to  identify 
themselves  with  the  Abolitionists.  Up  to  this 
time  the  Irish  in  America  had,  almost  without 

1  Memorial  of  Ann  Phillips. 


164  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

exception,  been  on  the  side  of  slavery.     The 
reason  for  this  appears  to  have  been  that  they 
feared  the  competition  which  would  be  offered 
in  the  labor  market  by  the  negro  if  free.    Phillips, 
however,  by  the  power  of    his  matchless  elo- 
quence, as  he  held  that  imposing  petition  in  his 
hand,  won  to  the  side  of  freedom  for  the  black 
man  this  huge  Irish  audience  all  of  whom  knew, 
themselves,    only    too    well,    the    meaning    of 
oppression.     "  Ireland,"  he  said,  "  is  the  land 
of  agitation  and  agitators.     We  may  well  learn 
a  lesson  from  her  in  the  battle  for  human  rights. 
...  I  trust  in  that  love  of  liberty  which  every 
Irishman  brings  to  the  country  of  his  adoption, 
to  make  him  true  to  her  cause  at  the  ballot-box, 
and  throw  no  vote  without  asking  if  the  hand 
to  which  he  is  about  to  trust  political  power 
will  use  it  for  the  slave.     When  an  American 
was  introduced  to  O'Connell  in  the  lobby  of 
the    House    of    Commons,  he    asked,  without 
putting  out  his  hand, '  Are  you  from  the  South?  * 
'  Yes,  sir.'    '  A  slaveholder,  I  presume?  '    '  Yes, 
sir.'     '  Then,'  said  the  great  liberator,  '  I  have 
no  hand  for  you!  '  and  walked  away.    Shall  his 
countrymen    trust    that    hand    with    political 
power  which  O'Connell  deemed  it  pollution  to 
touch?  " 

Soon  after  this  Phillips  took  a  step  for  which 
he  was  greatly  criticized:  he  personally  seceded 
from  the  Union  because,  as  he  held,  its  Con- 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  165 

stitution  was  a  pro-slavery  one!  The  occasion 
for  this  step  was  the  famous  ruling  of  Judge 
Shaw  in  the  case  of  a  mulatto  named  Latimer, 
who,  in  October,  1842,  came  to  Boston  from 
Norfolk,  Virginia,  and  was  thrown  into  jail 
on  a  charge  of  theft.  It  soon  became  clear  that 
all  that  the  man  had  stolen  was  —  himself,  and 
friends  rallied  to  his  side  and  demanded  a  trial 
by  jury.  Judge  Shaw,  however,  denied  this 
privilege  on  the  ground  that  Latimer  was  a 
fugitive  slave.  "  The  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,"  he  declared,  "  authorizes  the 
owner  of  such  an  one  to  arrest  him  in  any  State 
to  which  he  may  have  fled."  At  a  Sunday 
night  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  called  together  by 
the  Abolitionists  to  denounce  this  decision,  Phil- 
lips, referring  to  Judge  Shaw's  ruling  exclaimed, 
"  We  presume  to  believe  the  Bible  out-weighs 
the  statute-book.  When  I  look  on  those 
crowded  thousands  and  see  them  trample  on  their 
consciences  and  on  the  rights  of  their  fellow- 
men  at  the  bidding  of  a  piece  of  parchment,  I 
say,  my  curse  be  on  the  Constitution  of  these 
United  States!  '5  The  case  of  Latimer  had  made 
him  see  clearly  that  his  real  quarrel,  in  all  this 
advocacy  of  the  black,  was  with  the  old  pro- 
slavery  Constitution,  a  document  which  de- 
manded that  a  Civil  War  must  be  fought  before 
it  could  be  effectually  amended.  From  this 
time  on  Phillips  neither  practised  in  the  courts 


166  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

—  because,  as  an  attorney  he  would  have  had  to 
take  an  oath  to  support  the  Constitution  —  or 
used  his  right  of  ballot,  since  to  vote  would  have 
been  to  participate  actively  in  governmental 
affairs. 

As  soon  as  Phillips'  eyes  had  been  opened  to 
the  fact  that  the  Constitution  was  a  pro-slavery 
document  he  "  came  out."  Nor  was  he  long 
to  be  alone  in  the  position  he  had  taken.  There 
was  soon  a  band  of  come-outers,  with  Garrison 
and  Quincy  to  officer  them.  The  question 
thus  raised  became  the  topic  of  debate  at  every 
anti-slavery  meeting,  and  in  1843  the  Massa- 
chusetts  Society  adopted  "  come-outer  "  reso- 
lutions, their  example  in  this  matter  being  fol- 
lowed, the  next  year,  by  the  societies  in  New 
England  and  throughout  the  free  States  gener- 
ally. "  No  Union  with  Slave-holders  "  was 
now  their  motto.  To  be  sure,  there  remained 
other  earnest  Abolitionists  who  did  not  see  the 
matter  thus,  and  they  it  was  who  formed  the 
Liberty  Party  in  the  hope  of  attaining  reform 
through  the  ballot  —  just  as  the  Socialist  Party 
now  hopes  to  do.  Thus  it  came  about  that  the 
"  moral  suasionists  and  the  political  actionists  " 
lined  up  in  opposition  each  to  the  other. 

Phillips  certainly  made  out  a  wonderful  case 
for  his  side  in  his  argument  The  Constitution  a 
Pro-Slavery  Compact,  which  he  wrote  and  pub- 
lished  in    1845.    And  his   brochure,   published 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  167 

in  the  same  year,  "  Can  Abolitionists  Vote 
or  Take  Office  under  the  United  States  Con- 
stitution? "  is  full  of  wit  and  telling  stories. 
There  is  no  better  way  of  making  plain  his 
position  as  a  "  come-outer  "  than  to  quote  a 
few  paragraphs  from  this  pamphlet.  "  My 
object,"  he  says,  "  in  becoming  a  disunionist 
is  to  free  the  slave,  and  meantime  to  live  a 
consistent  life.  I  want  men  to  understand  me. 
And  I  submit  that  the  body  of  the  Roman 
people  understood  better  and  felt  more  ear- 
nestly the  struggle  between  the  people  and  the 
princes,  when  the  little  band  of  democrats 
left  the  city  and  encamped  on  Mons  Sacer, 
outside,  than  while  they  remained  mixed  up 
and  voting  with  their  masters.  .  .  .  Because 
we  refuse  to  aid  a  wrongdoer  in  his  sin  we  by 
no  means  proclaim  that  we  think  our  whole 
character  better  than  his.  It  is  neither  Phari- 
saical to  have  opinions  nor  presumptuous  to 
guide  our  lives  by  them.  He  would  be  a  strange 
preacher  who  should  set  out  to  reform  his 
circle  by  joining  in  all  their  sins.  This  reminds 
me  of  the  tipsy  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  seeing 
a  drunken  friend  in  the  gutter  hiccoughed: 
1  My  dear  fellow,  I  can't  help  you  out,  but 
I'll  do  better  —  I'll  lie  down  by  your  side! '  " 
Of  course,  Phillips  was  branded  as  a  crank 
and  a  zealot  by  reason  of  the  position  he  had 
taken,  and  he  was  told  that  he  was  meanwhile 


168  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

losing  a  golden  opportunity  to  help  amend  the 
Constitution  by  voting  right,  but  to  this  he 
replied  that  he  could  not,  on  that  account,  swear 
to  support  it  "as  it  is.  What  it  may  become 
we  know  not.  We  speak  of  it  as  it  is  and 
repudiate  it  as  it  is.  We  will  not  brand  it 
as  Pro-Slavery  after  it  has  ceased  to  be  so. 
This  objection  to  our  position  reminds  me  of 
Miss  Martineau's  story  of  the  little  boy  who 
hurt  himself  and  sat  crying  on  the  sidewalk. 

*  Don't  cry/  said  a  friend,  '  it  won't  hurt  you 
to-morrow.'     ■  Well  then,'  whimpered  the  child, 

*  I  won't  cry  to-morrow! '  " 

A  man  who  would  refuse  to  vote  because 
the  Constitution  under  which  he  must  needs 
exercise  the  suffrage  defended  an  institution 
he  abhorred  would,  not  unnaturally,  proceed 
to  cut  himself  off,  also,  from  an  organized 
church  whose  officers  were,  most  of  them, 
advocates  of  slavery.  Phillips  had  had  a 
very  religious  mother  and  he  was  himself 
deeply  religious.  To  a  personal  friend  who 
asked  him,  not  long  before  his  death,  whether 
he  had  ever  consecrated  himself  to  God  he 
replied,  "  Yes,  when  I  was  a  boy  fourteen  years 
of  age,  in  the  old  church  at  the  North  End,  I 
heard  Lyman  Beecher  preach  on  the  theme, 
6  You  belong  to  God,'  and  I  went  home,  after 
that  service,  threw  myself  on  the  floor  of  my 
room,  with  locked  doors,  and  prayed,  '  Oh  God, 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  169 

I  belong  to  Thee;  take  what  is  Thine  own.  I 
ask  this,  that  whenever  a  thing  be  wrong  it 
may  have  no  power  of  temptation  over  me; 
whenever  a  thing  be  right  it  may  take  no 
courage  to  do  it.'  From  that  day  to  this," 
added  Phillips,  "  it  has  been  so.  Whenever  I 
have  known  a  thing  to  be  wrong  it  has  held  no 
temptation.  Whenever  I  have  known  a  thing 
to  be  right  it  has  taken  no  courage  to  do  it."1 
A  man  who  could  honestly  say  this  when 
arrived  at  old  age  would  not  lightly  have 
broken  away  from  the  institution  through 
which  so  much  of  moral  power  had  come  to 
him.  Phillips  continued  to  hold  fast  to  his 
ancestral  faith,  but  he,  none  the  less,  denounced 
the  Church  as  it  existed  precisely  in  the  spirit 
in  which  many  good  men  today  are  denouncing 
it.  Yet  at  many  a  meeting  of  the  Radical  Club 
he  testified  in  no  uncertain  fashion  to  his  own 
strictly  orthodox  beliefs.  He  was  not  a  member 
of  this  club,  which  was  wont  to  meet  at  the 
Chestnut  Street  home  of  Rev.  John  T.  Sargent 
and  his  wife,  but  he  was  a  frequent  guest  there, 
and  he  always  took  the  conservative  ground 
when  religious  radicalism  was  being  advanced. 
On  one  occasion,  when  Emerson  had  read  an 
essay  on  religion  in  which  he  claimed  that 
Christianity  was  only  one  faith  more,  a  modifica- 

1  Evidence  of  Rev.  O.  P.  Gifford,  D.  D.    Reported  in  the  Golden 
Rule  August  15,  1889. 


170 


ROMANTIC  DAYS 


tion  of  Judaism  or  Buddhism,  Phillips,  in 
masterly  rejoinder,  maintained  that  Chris- 
tianity had  in  it  something  essentially  differenl 
from  the  religious  experience  of  other  races. 
On  another  occasion,  at  the  same  place,  he 
commented  thus  on  the  paper  which  Rev.  W. 
H.  Channing  had  just  read  on  "  the  Christian 
Name:  "  "  Jesus  is  the  divine  type  who  has 
given  His  peculiar  form  to  the  modern  world. 
.  .  .  Europe  shows  a  type  of  human  character 
not  paralleled  anywhere  else.  The  intellect 
of  Greece  centred  around  power  and  beauty; 
that  of  Rome  around  legal  justice.  The  civi- 
lization of  modern  Europe  was  inspired  by  a 
great  moral  purpose.  Imperfect  as  it  was  and 
limited  in  many  ways,  the  religious  element 
there  had  steadily  carried  those  nations  for- 
ward. The  battle  for  human  rights  was  finally 
fought  on  a  Christian  plane.  .  .  .  The  "power 
that  urged  the  world  forward  came  from  Chris- 
tianity" And  one  day,  when  John  Weiss  spoke 
on  "  Heart  in  Religion,"  contending  that  Jesus 
was  effeminate,  Phillips  said,  "  You  speculate 
as  to  whether  Jesus  was  a  masculine  character. 
Look  at  the  men  who  have  learned  of  Hi] 
most  closely,  —  at  Paul  and  Luther  and  Wesley. 
Were  they  effeminate?  Yet  the  disciple  h 
but  a  faint  reflection  of  his  Master.  The 
character  from  which  came  the  force  which  has 
been  doing  battle  ever  since  with  wrong  an< 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  171 

falsehood    and    error    was    nothing    less    than 
masculine;   but  sentiment  is  the  toughest  thing 
in  the  world,  —  nothing  else  is  iron."    A  man 
so  honoring  Christ  could  not  be  anti-Christian 
though    he    was    "  anti-Church."      "  He    dis- 
tinguished," says  his  biographer,  Carlos  Martyn, 
(writing  in   1890)    "  between  Christianity  and 
Churchianity;    the  distinction  may  be  needed 
again   sometime."     How   interestingly  history 
repeats  itself  in  the  case  of  reformers!     I  am 
constantly  hearing  this  distinction  made  today 
by  men  who  think  the  Church  of  Christ  is  not 
living  up  to  the  Truth  Christ  came  to  proclaim. 
Because  Wendell  Phillips  was  no  longer  a 
practising    lawyer,    with    a    lawyer's    natural 
means  of  self-expression  and  self-assertion;   be- 
cause,   too,    he    had    cut    away    from    church 
organization    and    the    help    that    might   have 
afforded  him,  he  now  proceeded   to   construct 
for  himself  a  platform,  —  he  became,  in  a  word, 
that  new  thing  in  American  life,  a  professional 
agitator.     It  was  his  firm  belief  that  in  every 
age  there  are  wrongs  which  must  be  righted, 
and  he  maintained  that  neither  the  press,  nor 
political   parties,   nor   the   pulpit   could   do   so 
much  towards  getting  them  righted  as  a  free 
citizen  who  should  have  the  will  and  the  skill 
to  present  to  the  attention  of  the  people  at 
large    the    particular    question    under    debate. 
He  was  by  no  means  deceived  as  to  the  diffi- 


172  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

culties  which  would  be  encountered  in  winning 
adherents  to  an  unpopular  cause.  For  he  saw  — 
none  more  clearly  —  that,  "in  a  country  like 
ours,  of  absolute  democratic  equality  .  .  .  there 
is  no  refuge  from  the  tyranny  of  public  opinion. 
The  result  is  that,  if  you  take  the  old  Greek 
lantern  and  go  about  to  seek  among  a  hundred, 
you  will  find  not  one  single  American  who 
really  has  not,  or  who  does  not  fancy  at  least 
that  he  has,  something  to  gain  or  lose  in  his 
ambition,  his  social  life  or  his  business  from  the 
good  opinion  and  the  votes  of  those  around  him. 
And  the  consequence  is  that,  instead  of  being 
a  mass  of  individuals,  each  one  fearlessly 
blurting  out  his  own  convictions,  as  a  nation, 
compared  with  other  nations,  we  are  a  mass  of 
cowards."  1 

Phillips,  however,  was  just  enough  not  to 
blame  the  pulpit  or  the  press  unduly  for  being 
bound  by  the  average  sentiment.  "  As  the 
minister's  settlement  and  salary,"  he  said, 
"  depend  upon  the  unity  and  good  will  of  the 
people  he  preaches  to,  he  cannot  fairly  be 
expected,  save  in  exceptional  and  special  cases, 
to  antagonize  his  flock.  If  all  clergymen  were 
like  Paul  or  Luther  or  Wesley  they  might  give, 
not  take  orders.  But  as  the  average  clergyman 
is  an  average  man  he  will  be  bound  by  average 

1  Oration  delivered  at  the  O'Connell  Celebration  in  Boston, 
August  6,  1870. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  173 

conditions." *  Similarly,  he  held  it  to  be 
unreasonable  to  expect  of  the  press  a  loftier 
tone  than  that  taken  by  the  constituency  who 
support  it.  "  The  moment  therefore,"  he 
concluded,  "  that  a  large  issue,  twenty  years 
ahead  of  its  age,  presents  itself  to  the  considera- 
tion of  an  empire  or  of  a  republic,  just  in  pro- 
portion to  the  freedom  of  its  institutions  is 
the  necessity  of  a  platform  outside  of  the  press, 
of  politics  and  of  the  Church,  whereon  stand 
men  with  no  candidate  to  elect,  with  no  plan 
to  carry,  with  no  reputation  to  stake,  with  no 
object  but  the  truth,  no  purpose  but  to  tear 
the  question  open  and  let  the  light  through 
it." 

Especially  in  a  republic  is  agitation  necessary, 
he  insisted,  in  his  lecture  on  Public  Opinion. 
"  Only  by  unintermitted  agitation  can  a  people 
be  kept  sufficiently  awake  to  principle  not  to 
let  liberty  be  smothered  in  material  prosperity." 
Surely  we  of  today  know  the  truth  of  that 
great  saying,  first  set  forth  at  the  Melodeon, 
in  Boston,  January  28,  1852.  "  Republics," 
he  then  went  on,  "  exist  only  on  the  tenure  of 
being  constantly  agitated.  .  .  .  Never,  to  our 
latest  posterity,  can  we  afford  to  do  without 
prophets  like  Garrison,  to  stir  up  the  monotony 
of  wealth  and  reawake  the  people  to  the  great 
ideas  that  are  constantly  fading  out  of  their 

1  Extract  from  a  lecture  on  Agitation. 


174  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

minds  —  to  trouble  the  waters  that  there  may 
be  health  in  their  flow."  One  other  axiom  held 
by  Wendell  Phillips,  agitator,  was  that  he  and 
others  like  him  should,  on  the  platform,  tell  "  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the 
truth."  Under  this  rule  he  used  a  plainness 
of  speech  which  often  considerably  shocked  a 
generation  inured  to  euphemism.  Words  "  with 
which  we  have  no  concern,"  to  paraphrase 
Barrie's  Tommy,  abounded  in  his  lectures. 
But,  like  Whitman,  he  was  coarse,  not  for 
coarseness'  sake  but  because  he  wished  to  goad 
his  hearers  to  attention.  As  when  he  declared 
the  South  to  be  "  one  great  brothel,"  or  again, 
when,  speaking  of  the  defection  of  Webster, 
he  said,  "It  is  not  often  that  Providence  per- 
mits the  eyes  of  twenty  millions  of  thinking 
people  to  behold  the  fall  of  another  Lucifer, 
from  the  very  battlements  of  Heaven,  down  into 
that  '  lower  deep  of  the  lowest  deep  '  of  hell." 

Of  course,  under  the  present  system,  a  man 
who  should  speak  his  mind  thus  freely  would 
need  to  have  a  modest  inheritance  upon  which 
to  live.  Phillips,  happily,  was  so  circumstanced 
that,  even  before  he  began  to  earn  large  fees 
from  his  lectures,  he  was  independent  in  matters 
of  money.  And  he  had  a  very  happy  home  life 
in  spite  of  the  invalidism  of  his  beloved  wife. 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  Green,  ex-Mayor  of  Boston, 
who  was  a  near  neighbor  of  Phillips  when  the 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  175 

orator  lived  on  Essex  Street  once  told  me  that, 
often  as  he  was  at  the  Phillips  home,  he  never 
saw  Mrs.  Phillips.  Yet  he  constantly  felt  her 
presence,  for  her  husband  quoted  her  wit  and 
wisdom  to  all  his  friends  and  so  passed  on 
to  them  something  of  the  inspiration  he  him- 
self drew  from  her  brave  and  buoyant  spirit. 
Debarred  from  attendance  at  concerts,  of 
which  she  was  very  fond,  Mrs.  Phillips  de- 
rived much  pleasure  in  listening  to  the  strains 
of  the  hand-organs  which  played  often  under 
her  window,  and  it  is  said  that  her  last  word  to 
Mr.  Phillips,  when  he  was  going  out,  would 
always  be,  "Wendell,  don't  forget  the  organ 
money."  The  meals  in  their  little  home  were 
always  served  in  the  invalid's  room,  he  on  this 
side  and  she  on  that  of  a  tiny  table,  and  at  such 
times  the  married  lovers  were  wont  to  converse 
in  the  language  of  Moliere.  As  the  husband  put 
it  to  a  friend,  "We  eat  in  French." 

Early  in  1847  a  new  neighbor  came  to  take  up 
his  abode  near  the  Phillips  home,  Theodore 
Parker,  whose  house  in  Exeter  Place  was  hence- 
forth directly  in  the  rear  of  "26  Essex  Street." 
Though  Phillips  and  Parker  differed  greatly  in 
their  theology  they  were  united  in  love  of 
books  and  in  zeal  for  human  freedom.  Their 
intimacy  became  a  source  of  great  joy  and 
stimulus  to  both.  Both  needed  it,  too,  for 
Abolitionists  were  bitterly  hated  by  those  who 


176  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

would  not  or  could  not  understand  them,  and 
Phillips  and  Parker  often  carried  their  lives 
in  their  hands  as  they  walked  down  Essex 
Street  to  their  homes  after  a  stormy  meeting. 
Frederick  Douglass,  in  a  letter  to  Mary  Liver- 
more,  tells  of  one  occasion  in  particular  when 
it  was  proposed  to  shed  the  blood  of  Phillips 
to  appease  the  slave  god  of  the  South,  and  when 
Phillips  and  Maria  Weston  Chapman  literally 
hazarded  their  lives  by  walking  through  the 
dense  excited  mass  of  people  from  Cambridge 
Street  through  Belknap  [Joy]  Street  "  to  the 
little  Baptist  Church  once  presided  over  by 
Father  Snowdon."  It  took  great  courage  in 
those  times  even  to  express  sympathy  with 
Parker  or  Phillips !  What  has  been  characterized 
as  "  one  of  the  bravest  acts  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher's  life  "  was  when,  in  1850,  after  the 
Abolitionists  had  been  mobbed  in  New  York, 
that  gifted  preacher  (then  not  an  Abolitionist 
himself)  opened  Plymouth  Church  to  Phillips 
and  appeared  with  him  on  the  platform  to 
signify  his  appreciation  of  free  speech.  Phillips 
was  always  perfectly  serene  on  these  dangerous 
occasions.  "  I  was  amazed,"  Beecher  wrote 
afterward,  "  at  the  unagitated  Agitator,  —  so 
calm,  so  fearless,  so  incisive,  —  every  word  a 
bullet.  I  never  heard  a  more  effective  speech 
than  Mr.  Phillips'  that  night.  He  seemed  in- 
spired and  played  with  his  audience  (turbulent, 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  177 

of  course)  as  Gulliver  might  with  the  Lilliputians. 
He  had  the  dignity  of  Pitt,  the  vigor  of  Fox,  the 
wit  of  Sheridan,  the  satire  of  Junius,  —  and  a 
grace  and  music  all  his  own." 

To  Phillips,  as  to  all  other  right-minded  New 
Englanders,  Webster's  advocacy  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Law  was  a  severe  trial  of  faith  in  human 
nature,  —  as  well  as  a  keen  disappointment. 
Webster  had  previously  done  yeoman  service 
on  the  side  of  freedom.  Moreover,  it  would 
seem  to  have  been  true,  as  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 
says,  that  "  no  man  in  all  history  ever  came  into 
the  world  so  equipped  physically  to  serve  a 
noble  cause  by  speech."  The  impression  Web- 
ster commonly  produced  was  like  that  made 
upon  the  English  navvy  who  pointed  at  Webster 
in  the  streets  of  Liverpool  and  said,  "  There 
goes  a  king."  Sydney  Smith  exclaimed  when 
he  saw  him,  "  Good  heavens,  he  is  a  small 
cathedral  by  himself."  And  Carlyle,  who  did 
not  too  much  love  America,  wrote  to  Emerson, 
"  Not  many  days  ago  I  saw  at  breakfast  the 
notablest  of  all  your  notabilities, Daniel  Webster. 
.  .  .  As  a  logic  fencer  or  parliamentary  Her- 
cules, one  would  incline  to  back  him  at  first 
sight  against  all  the  extant  world.  The  tanned 
complexion;  that  amorphous  crag-like  face; 
the  dull  black  eyes  under  the  precipice  of  brows, 
like  dull  anthracite  furnaces  needing  only  to 
be  blown;  the  mastiff  mouth  accurately  closed; 


178  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

I  have  not  traced  so  much  silent  Berserker  rage 
that  I  remember  of  in  any  man.  ':  Yet  when  all 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  Webster  and  he  had  the 
chance  of  his  life  for  power  and  prophecy  he 
faced  South  instead  of  North  —  and  betrayed 
the  constituents  who  trusted  him.  Whether 
the  dominant  desire  of  his  seventh  of  March 
speech  was  to  arrest  the  whole  anti-slavery 
movement  and  in  that  way  put  an  end  to  the 
dangers  which  threatened  the  Union,  or  whether 
his  only  thought,  as  his  harshest  critics  aver, 
was  so  to  curry  favor  with  the  South  that  he 
would  gain  the  Presidency  he  coveted,  the 
result  was  the  same :  for  him  moral  and  political 
suicide;  for  those  who  had  believed  in  him 
bitter  disappointment  and  disillusion. 

'Happily  there  was  raised  up,  just  then,  to 
lift  the  flag  of  freedom  which  Webster  had 
allowed  to  be  trampled  in  the  dust,  Charles 
Sumner,  who  had  been  Phillips'  friend  in  college 
and  who  had  latterly  been  growing  greatly  in 
power  and  in  the  confidence  of  the  public. 
Sumner  was  Bostonian  to  the  core.  The  family 
home,  where  he  was  born,  was  on  the  corner 
of  Revere  and  Irving  Streets  and  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  house  his  aunt  kept  a  private  school 
at  which  he  received  his  first  instruction. 
At  the  university  Sumner  had  had  a  brilliant 
career  and  after  he  began  the  practice  of  law 
in  Boston  he  was  able  to  build  up  a  lucrative 


=>3 


11 

T3 


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O    § 


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IN    OLD    BOSTON  179 

practice  much  more  quickly  than  is  usually  the 
case  with  young  lawyers.  But  as  yet  he  had 
felt  no  overwhelming  interest  in  public  affairs. 
Instead,  it  was  literature  and  literary  men  which 
fascinated  him,  and  when  (in  1837)  he  went  on 
a  European  tour  it  was  Carlyle,  Wordsworth, 
Lady  Blessington  and  Mrs.  Jameson  in  whose 
society  he  delighted,  not  in  that  of  George 
Thompson  or  his  co-workers.  Even  when  he 
returned  to  Boston  (in  the  spring  of  1840)  and 
was  welcomed  back  into  a  circle  which  included 
Judge  Story,  Washington  Allston,  Jeremiah 
Mason,  Dr.  Channing,  Rufus  Choate,  Prescott, 
Bancroft,  Longfellow,  Dr.  Howe  and  Felton 
(some  of  whom  were  ardent  Abolitionists)  his 
interest  in  the  anti-slavery  cause  was  only  a 
mild  one.  Always,  however,  he  was  distin- 
guished by  a  fine  sense  of  duty  and  by  an  inclina- 
tion to  unselfish  service.  To  Horace  Mann  he 
gave  substantial  aid  in  his  efforts  to  improve 
educational  methods  in  Massachusetts,  and  Dr. 
Howe  he  helped  in  such  ways  as  he  could  in  his 
work  for  the  blind.  Howe,  who  was  one  of  his 
warmest  friends,  wrote  him,  about  this  time, 
"  I  know  not  where  you  may  be  or  what  you 
may  be  about;  but  I  know  what  you  are  not 
about;  you  are  not  seeking  your  own  pleasure 
or  striving  to  advance  your  own  interests;  you 
are,  I  warrant  me,  on  some  errand  of  kindness 
—  some  work  for  a  friend  or  for  the  public." 


180  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

So  the  soil  was  ready.  Should  Sumner  once 
become  aroused  to  the  overwhelming  importance 
of  the  anti-slavery  cause  none  could  be  more 
depended  on  than  he  to  give  it  enthusiastic 
support.  His  debut  as  a  public  speaker  came 
in  1845  when  he  was  invited  to  deliver  the 
Fourth  of  July  oration  in  Boston.  The  subject 
he  chose  was  —  Peace.  It  was  a  significant 
choice,  not  so  much  because  Peace,  was  an 
unusual  topic  for  a  Fourth  of  July  oration 
(though  it  was  that),  as  because  of  the  way  in 
which  the  speaker  proceeded  to  marshal  his 
arguments  against  the  horrors  of  war,  its  sinful 
wastefulness,  its  absurdity  and  its  utter  failure, 
in  most  cases,  to  accomplish  the  object  for 
which  it  had  been  waged.  It  was  a  speech  fifty 
years  ahead  of  its  time,  and  it  demonstrated 
conclusively  that  Charles  Sumner  possessed  high 
courage  as  well  as  marked  eloquence  and  rare 
scholarship.  Though  he  was  still  less  than 
thirty-five,  Sumner  was,  from  that  moment,  a 
recognized  leader  of  men ! 

His  next  noteworthy  speech  was  a  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  oration  in  the  summer  of  1846,  and  in 
this  he  "  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to 
express  himself  freely,  especially  on  the  two  great 
questions  of  slavery  and  war."  About  the 
former  topic  he  had  been  thinking  deeply  since 
the  Fourth  of  July  of  a  year  ago,  and  of  the 
result  Emerson  wrote  in  his  journal :    "  Sumner's 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  181 

oration  was  marked  with  a  certain  magnificence 
which  I  do  not  well  know  how  to  parallel;  " 
and  Everett  said,  "  It  was  an  amazingly  splendid 
affair.  I  never  heard  it  surpassed;  I  don't 
know  that  I  ever  heard  it  equalled."  The 
following  month  Sumner  broke  into  politics, 
being  sent  as  a  delegate  to  the  Whig  State 
convention  and  voicing  very  effectively  there 
the  sentiments  of  the  anti-slavery  faction  in 
that  party.  When  Webster,  however,  became, 
in  his  famous  speech  of  March  7,  1850,  the 
apologist  of  slavery,  the  swan-song  of  the  Whig 
party  was  sung,  in  Massachusetts.  And  when 
Charles  Sumner  was  elected  to  replace  Webster 
in  the  Senate  (the  great  Daniel  having  been 
called  into  President  Fillmore's  Cabinet)  it  was 
as  the  choice  of  the  Free  Soil  party,  the  child 
and  successor  of  the  old  Liberty  party,  that 
he  entered  upon  his  duties.  This  "  party  of 
freedom,"  as  Sumner  termed  it,  was  founded  on 
the  principle  that  new  States  admitted  to  the 
Union  should  be  free  States.  Gloriously  did 
Charles  Sumner  uphold  this  principle  in  Wash- 
ington ! 

In  Massachusetts,  meanwhile,  Wendell  Phil- 
ips, agitator,  embraced  a  new  cause.  In 
London,  it  will  be  recalled,  Phillips,  at  a  crucial 
moment  in  the  anti-slavery  movement,  cham- 
pioned the  cause  of  Woman.  Naturally,  there- 
fore, he  was  glad,  with  Mrs.  Phillips,  to  sign 


182  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  call  for  the  Women's  Rights  Convention 
which  met  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  October 
23  and  24, 1850.  The  year  is  important  because 
in  Old  England,  as  in  New  England,  the  women's 
cause  —  to  which  Mary  A.  Livermore  and  Lucy 
Stone  here  gave  their  lives  —  dates  from  this 
Worcester  gathering;  the  Westminster  Review, 
apropos  of  the  convention,  gave  space  to  an 
exhaustive  article  on  the  subject  written  by 
Mrs.  John  Stuart  Mill.  The  attendance  at 
Worcester  was  large,  women  naturally  being 
in  the  majority;  but  Phillips,  Garrison  and 
Douglass  were  there,  also,  to  represent  the 
anti-slavery  interest,  and  Sargent  and  Channing 
found  their  way  to  the  meetings  in  behalf  of 
the  liberal  pulpit.  The  illiberal  pulpit  com- 
mented upon  the  gathering  in  characteristically 
unpleasant  fashion.  A  certain  Universalist 
clergyman  —  whose  name  Carlos  Martyn  says 
it  would  be  cruel  to  give  but  which  I  should  give 
just  the  same  if  I  knew  it  —  thus  announced 
a  meeting  at  which  Lucy  Stone  was  to  speak: 
"  Tonight,  at  the  Town  Hall,  a  hen  wTill  attempt 
to  crow."  One  very  interesting  thing  about 
this  convention  was  that  Wendell  Phillips 
there  made  a  prophecy,  for  which  he  was 
rebuked  by  Lucretia  Mott,  but  of  which  time 
has,  none  the  less,  proved  the  truth:  i.  e.,  that 
"  the  cause  would  meet  more  immediate  and 
palpable  and  insulting  opposition  from  women 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  183 

that  from  men."  Throughout  the  long  strug- 
gle of  women  to  obtain  the  franchise  we  encoun- 
ter the  principles  for  which  that  convention  first 
stood,  principles  set  forth  for  all  time  by 
Phillips  a  year  later  in  that  matchless  speech 
of  which  George  William  Curtis  has  said : 
".  .  .  All  the  pleas  for  applying  the  Ameri- 
can principle  of  representation  to  the  wives 
and  mothers  of  American  citizens  echo  the 
eloquence  of  Wendell  Phillips  at  Worcester." 
This  address  is  easily  accessible  in  the  collected 
speeches  of  Phillips.  But  I  would  advise  all 
men  who  prefer  to  "protect"  women  and 
keep  them  in  "their  place,  the  home,"  (for- 
getting that  nearly  nine  million  women  in 
the  United  States  are  already  earning  their 
living  outside  the  home)  I  would  advise  such 
men  and  women,  I  say,  not  to  read  the  speech. 
It  will  make  them  feel  so  silly! 

When  Phillips  met  Theodore  Parker,  after 
returning  from  the  Women's  Rights  Conven- 
tion, the  clergyman  said  to  him: 

"  Wendell,  why  do  you  make  a  fool  of  your- 
self? " 

"  Theodore,"  was  the  reply,  "  this  is  the 
greatest  question  of  the  ages;  you  ought  to 
understand  it." 

Inside  of  a  year  Parker  had  not  only  espoused 
the  cause  but  had  preached  four  sermons  on 
it. 


184  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

It  was  in  the  year  1851,  which  we  have  now 
reached  in  our  story  of  Phillips'  life,  that  Kos- 
suth came  to  America,  seeking  the  intervention 
of  the  United  States  in  the  cause  of  Hungary 
against  Austria.  Kossuth  is  remembered  by 
a  few  "  old-timers  "  as  a  "  short  thick-set  man 
with  brown  hair,  a  full  brown  beard  and  large 
blue  eyes."  He  was  a  graceful  and  impressive 
speaker,  aflame  with  patriotic  devotion  to  his 
oppressed  country.  But,  unhappily  for  his 
cause  in  Boston,  he  ignored  the  fact  that  in 
this  country  also,  a  large  question  concerning 
human  freedom  was  being  debated.  He  ac- 
cepted the  hospitality  of  slave-holders  while 
in  the  South  and  he  carefully  refrained  from 
raising  his  voice  on  what,  to  the  Abolitionists, 
was  the  most  important  issue  then  connected 
with  the  word,  freedom.  Wendell  Phillips, 
accordingly,  improved  the  opportunity  offered 
by  the  annual  anti-slavery  Bazaar  in  Boston 
to  make  (on  December  27,  1851)  a  perfectly 
tremendous  speech  on  Kossuth's  anomalous 
position.  He  showed  that  the  patriot  had 
been  informed  of  the  condition  of  the  American 
struggle  before  he  left  the  old  world,  so  that  he 
could  not  plead  ignorance  as  his  excuse,  and 
he  contrasted  —  greatly  to  Kossuth's  disad- 
vantage —  his  attitude  in  regard  to  the  in- 
stitution of  slavery  with  that  of  Lafayette  and 
O'Connell.     Not  that  Phillips  felt  it  necessary 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  185 

that  Kossuth,  who  had  come  to  raise  money 
for  Hungary,  should  take  a  pronounced  anti- 
slavery  stand;  but  he  did  feel  that  this  friend 
of  freedom  might  at  least  have  withheld  sweep- 
ing praise  of  American  institutions,  praise  so 
fulsome  and  so  enthusiastic  as  to  convince 
the  slave-holders  that  their  visitor  distinctly 
approved  of  them  and  of  their  ways.  The  only 
report  of  the  speech  is  in  the  Liberator  (vol. 
XXII,  p.  3),  but  it  is  well  worth  searching  out 
there,  for  Phillips  never  rose  to  greater  heights 
than  when  he  pointed  out  to  Bostonians  the 
paradox  of  Kossuth's  position  in  America  and 
lashed  with  sarcasm  this  eminent  patriot  who 
was  endorsing  the  "  great  American  lie,  that 
to  save  or  benefit  one  class  a  man  may  right- 
eously sacrifice  the  rights  of  another."  Webster, 
who  since  his  speech  in  behalf  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Law  had  systematically  adhered  to  the 
position  then  taken,  fittingly  did  the  honors 
for  Boston  at  the  dinner  given  here  to  Kossuth. 
A  year  later  Webster  was  no  more  and  Boston 
honored  him  in  the  last  rites  that  may  be  paid 
to  any  man.  Though  the  use  of  Faneuil  Hall  for 
a  reception  had  been  refused  the  great  Daniel 
by  the  Boston  board  of  aldermen  only  a  year 
before,  his  faults  were  now  forgotten  in  genuine 
grief  at  the  passing  on  October  24,  1852,  of 
a  mighty  intellect.  The  burial  was  at  Marsh- 
field,  Webster's  summer  home,  and  though  the 


186  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

nearest  railway  station  then  was  at  Kingston, 
eight  miles  distant,  and  transportation  was  not 
easy,  twenty  thousand  people  went  out  for  the 
services.  Crowded  memorial  services  were  sub- 
sequently held  in  Faneuil  Hall  and  in  the  Hollis 
Street  Church,  and  beautiful  and  appropriate 
mourning  was  displayed  for  days  throughout 
the  city.  From  Faneuil  Hall  was  hung  a  banner 
inscribed,  "Like  Daniel  of  Old:  His  Trust 
Was  In  God.  Upon  Whom  Shall  His  Mantle 
Fall?  "  And  from  Bunker  Hill  where  he  had 
made  two  of  the  greatest  speeches  in  the  English 
language  floated  the  legend,  "  Bunker  Hill 
Mourns  the  Departed  Patriot." 

One  other  important  thing  happened  in 
Boston  that  year  of  our  Lord  1852.  J.  P. 
Jewett,  a  young  and  hitherto  unknown  pub- 
lisher, brought  out  in  book  form  Harriet  Beecher 
Stowe's  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  Mrs.  Stowe  had 
known  Boston  well  as  a  girl,  for  her  father 
had  been  a  prominent  pastor  here.  But  during 
her  maturity  the  city  seems  to  have  made  its 
impression  upon  her  chiefly  through  the  Libera- 
tor. Not  only  had  she  diligently  read  this 
and  other  anti-slavery  papers;  she  had  seen 
slavery  at  work  in  Kentucky.  For  nearly 
twenty  years  before  the  publication  of  "Uncle 
Tom  "  she  had  been  brooding  over  the  wrongs 
of  the  slaves.  When  comparative  leisure  came 
to  her  the  story,  as  she  has  said,  "  wrote  itself." 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  187 

(At  the  time  it  found  its  way  to  paper  she  was 
living  in  what  was  then  known  as  the  Titcomb 
house  in  Brunswick,  Maine,  where  her  husband, 
Professor  Stowe,  had  lately  been  called  as  the 
incumbent  of  the  chair  of  natural  and  revealed 
religion  at  Bowdoin  College.) 

No  woman  with  Mrs.  Stowe's  heritage  and 
character  could  have  had  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  horrors  of  slavery  without  being  deeply 
moved  by  them.  Yet,  until  she  came  back  to 
New  England,  by  way  of  Boston,  she  had  not 
felt  impelled  to  the  duty  she  afterwards  under- 
took. On  her  journey  to  Maine  she  happened 
to  stop  at  the  Boston  home  of  her  brother, 
Dr.  Edward  Beecher.  Daniel  Webster's  Seventh 
of  March  speech  was  still  ringing  in  the  ears 
of  the  people  and  all  good  men  were  aflame 
with  the  infamy  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act 
which  he  had  been  defending.  The  heart- 
rending scenes  which  occurred  in  connection 
with  slave-renditions  under  this  Act  were  re- 
hearsed and  commented  on  in  all  Abolition 
homes  and  terrible  stories  told  of  men  frozen 
while  trying  to  escape  in  the  dead  of  winter 
through  rivers  and  pathless  forests  to  Canada. 
After  Mrs.  Stowe  reached  Brunswick  her  Bos- 
ton sister-in-law  wrote  her,  "  Hattie,  if  I  could 
use  a  pen  as  you  can  I  would  write  something  to 
make  this  whole  nation  feel  what  an  accursed 
thing  slavery  is."    While  Mrs.  Stowe  was  pon- 


188  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

dering  this  saying  she  came  upon  an  authenti- 
cated account,  in  an  anti-slavery  magazine,  of 
the  escape  of  a  woman  with  her  child  on  the  ice 
across  the  Ohio  River  from  Kentucky.  This 
suggested  a  plot  which  soon  crystallized  in 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  The  National  Era,  pub- 
lished in  Washington,  was  glad  to  bring  the 
story  out  in  numbers  and  for  this  Mrs. 
Stowe  received  three  hundred  dollars.  But  it 
remained  for  J.  P.  Jewett,  of  Boston,  to  see  the 
great  possibilities  of  the  story  when  it  should  be 
brought  out  in  book  form.  None  the  less  he 
hesitated  over  the  step,  for  the  work  was  longer 
than  he  would  have  wished.  When,  however, 
the  competent  literary  critic  to  whom  he  had 
submitted  it  for  an  opinion  reported,  "The  story 
has  life  in  it;  it  will  sell,"  he  hesitated  no 
more.  Finding  that  Professor  Stowe  could  not 
share  equally  with  him  the  expense  and  the 
profits  of  bringing  out  the  work  Mr.  Jewett 
offered  the  usual  ten  per  cent,  royalty,  which 
was  accepted. 

The  success  of  the  book  was  immediate. 
Three  thousand  copies  were  sold  the  first  day 
and  within  a  few  days  ten  thousand  copies 
had  gone.  Then  a  second  edition  went  to  press, 
and  thereafter  eight  presses,  running  night  and 
day,  were  barely  able  to  keep  pace  with  the 
demand.  Within  a  year  three  hundred  thou- 
sand   copies    were   sold    and    newspapers    and 


IN    OLD    BOSTON 


189 


pulpits  were  alternately  defending  and  attack- 
ing the  book. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  now  comparatively  rich  as 
well  as  famous.    When  her  husband,  four  months 
after  the  book's  publica-   =========__=^^ 

tion,  was  asked  by  Mr. 
Jewett  how  much  he 
expected  to  receive  as 
royalty,  he  replied  whim- 
sically that  he  hadn't 
the  slightest  idea  but 
hoped  it  would  be  enough 
to  buy  Mrs.  Stowe  a 
new  silk  dress.  The  pub- 
lisher handed  him  a  check 
for  ten  thousand  dollars. 
Yet  because  the  author 
had  neglected  to  secure 
the  dramatic  rights  of 
her  work  she  derived  no 
profits  from  the  great 
success  the  story  had 
as  a  play.  It  was  first 
presented  on  the  stage 
in  August,  1852,  —  and 
today  it  is  being  played 
by  scores  of  travelling 
companies  in  the  United  States.  From  its  enor- 
mous success,  both  as  a  book  and  as  a  play,  the 
story  earned  vast  sums  in  Europe  also.    But  from 


An  Edition  for  the  Million., 

tmOLE  TOWS  CABIN  FOB.  871-3  OSS. 
TITB  h»rt  yielded  to  the  revested  end  earnest  aolicU 
TT  ration*  of  numerous  friends  of  humanity,  end 
now  offer  to  them  «nd  to  the  poMie  generally— TO 
THE  LIVING  MASSES-iin  edition  of  Mm.  Stow'*. 
unrivalled  work  at  a  price  to  low  as  to  bring  It  within 
the  means  of  every  peraon.  It  seems  ■  work  of  aaper- 
erogation    to  apeak   in   complimentary   term  a    el.  a 

'  C7"  ONE  MILLION  COPIES  „£) 
of  which  have  been  printed,  in  this  eohntry  and  la 
Europe,  in  a  little  more  than  »U  month*.— a  enhf 
which  has  no  counterpart  in  the  world'a  hiatory.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  this  immenao  aalr,  there  are  hundreds 
of  thousands  in  our  own  country  who  have  not  ret 
perused  the  glowing  pages  of  UNCLE  TOM'S  CAB- 
IN,  many  of  whom  hare  been  prevented  from  doing 
an,  from  inability  to  purchase.  To  remove  Ibis  obata> 
cle,  we  hare  iaaued  this  edition 

Uj~FOR    THE  MLLIOX.  *£% 

And  millions  will  now  read  it,  and  own  it,  and  drink 
in  its  heavenly  principle*,  and  the  living  generation* 
of  men  will  imbibe  it*  noble  sentiments,  and  genera, 
tinns  yet  unborn  will  rise  np  and  bless  its  author,  and. 
thnnk  the  God  of  Heaven  for  inapirlng  a  noble  «»• 
Tnnn  to  utter  such  glowing,  burning  truchsy-for  the  r*» 
demption  of  the  oppressed  millions  of  oar  race. 

To  Bookseller*.  Philanthropist*,  or  Societies,  wh» 
wish  to  purchase  the  above  by  the  thousand;  for  aula 
or  distribution,  a  liberal  diacoun?  will  be  made.  The 
edition  i«  very  neatly  printed  in  a  large  octavo  pamph- 
let of  168  page*,  double  columns,  thick  paper  cover*, 
and  firmly  stitched.  We  now  offer  to  the  pubiio  tho 
following  editions  :— 

UNCLE  TOMS  CABIN,  »tT*it. 

The  edition  for  the  Mil-ion,  37 1-2  cent*. 

In  German,  (in  press,  to  be  published 

about  the  1st  of  Junuary.  1853.)        60         " 
The  edition  in  two  vol*.,  bound  in 

cloth,  best  library  edition,  SI  69 

Superb  Illustrated  Edition,  with  145 

Original  Design*,  by  Billings,  en- 

gmved  by  Baker  &  Smith,  in  1 

•vol.  octavo,  cloth,  2\S9 

Cloth,  full  gilt,  3*60 

Extra  Turkey,  full  gilt,  6  00 

JOHN  P.  JEWETT  &  CO.,  Pwhishtb*. 
BOSTOX. 

P.  S—Mbs.  STOWE  13  NOW  PREPARING, 
and  in  a  few  days  will  offer  to  the  public, 

A  KEY  TO  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN. 
Being  a  complete  refutation  of  some  charges  which 
have  been  made  against  her  on  account  of  alleged 
overstatements  of  fact*  in  Uncle  Tom.  It  will  make 
a  pamphlet  of  about  100  pages,  double  columns,  and 
wilt  present  original  facta  and  documents,  moat 
thoroushS-  establishing  the  truth  of  ever;  statement 
in  her  boulu    Price  25  rt*> 

Dec  3  otis 


190  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

these  Mrs.  Stowe  made  no  money;  and  by  the 
laws  of  her  own  country  even  her  ten  per 
cent,  on  the  American  sales  of  the  book  ceased 
before  her  death. 

But  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  had  written 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  to  advance  a  cause  and 
not  to  accumulate  wealth.  How  wonderfully 
it  did  this  every  American  school  boy  knows. 
Charles  Dudley  Warner  (in  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
of  September,  1896)  attributes  to  the  vigorous 
and  noble  appeal  which  Mrs.  Stowe  addressed 
to  the  women  of  England,  —  while  the  Civil 
War  was  going  on,  —  a  great  measure  of  the 
sympathy  that  England  felt  for  the  North 
during  that  "  irrepressible  conflict."  And  this 
appeal  was  directly  due  to  a  remarkable  docu- 
ment sent  to  the  women  of  America  by  the 
women  of  England  just  after  "  Uncle  Tom  " 
was  brought  out  in  the  mother  country.  There 
had  then  (in  1853)  been  presented  to  Mrs. 
Stowe  as  a  result  of  a  meeting  at  Stafford  House 
a  huge  petition  against  slavery  together  with 
an  address  composed  by  Lord  Shaftesbury. 
This  petition  had  previously  been  put  into  the 
hands  of  canvassers  in  England  and  on  the 
continent  as  far  as  Jerusalem,  with  the  result 
that  signatures  of  562,848  women  were  ob- 
tained "  with  their  occupations  and  residences 
from  the  nobility  on  the  steps  of  the  throne 
down  to  the  maids  in  the  kitchen."     All  who 


4 


i* 


A    PROCESSION    IN    NINETEENTH    CENTURY    COURT    STREET. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  191 

signed  the  petition  acknowledged  England's 
complicity  in  the  sin  of  slavery  but  prayed  for 
aid  in  removing  from  the  country  "  our  common 
crimes  and  common  dishonor." 

Personally,  Mrs.  Stowe  was  the  most  in- 
teresting member  of  a  highly  interesting  family. 
She  was  attractive  to  look  at,  too,  though  the 
portraits  of  her  which  are  usually  given  would 
not  in  the  least  lead  one  so  to  believe.  Mrs. 
Fields,  who  has  written  her  life,  tells  us  that 
once,  after  she  had  accompanied  Mrs.  Stowe 
to  a  well-known  house  in  Boston,  the  hostess 
came  to  her  exclaiming,  "  Why  did  you  not 
tell  me  that  Mrs.  Stowe  was  beautiful?  " 
Mrs.  Stowe  herself  relates  that  during  her 
triumphant  tour  of  England,  after  the  pub- 
lication of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  the  general 
topic  of  remark  on  meeting  her  seemed  to  be 
that  she  was  "  not  so  badlooking  "  as  they  were 
afraid  she  was. 

Lincoln  characterized  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
as  "  the  little  woman  who  made  this  great 
war."  Before  the  publication  of  her  book, 
slavery,  though  the  question  of  questions  for  a 
devoted  body  of  reformers,  was  an  academic 
question  to  people  generally.  After  the  book 
came  out  it  became  a  matter  of  wide  popular 
interest.  This  interest  the  anti-slavery  societies 
carefully  fanned.  Meeting  after  meeting  was 
arranged   with    stirring    addresses    and    special 


192  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

anti-slavery  hymns  or  songs  in  which  all  could 
join.  Moreover,  Bostonians,  who  had  here- 
tofore been  comparatively  conservative,  began 
to  concern  themselves  that  territories  about 
to  be  admitted  to  the  Union  should  be  of  the 
"  Free  State  "  variety.  By  the  autumn  of  1854 
Amos  A.  Lawrence  and  his  associates  began 
to  send  men  out  to  Kansas  in  order  to  make 
that  a  free  State,  and  these  parties  would  go 
swinging  across  the  intervening  territory  singing 
the  words  of  Whittier: 

"  We  cross  the  prairie  as  of  old 
The  Pilgrims  crossed  the  sea, 
To  make  the  West,  as  they  the  East, 
The  homestead  of  the  free." 

Now  it  happened  that,  ten  years  earlier,  a 
certain  John  Brown,  who  had  meanwhile  grown 
more  and  more  interested  in  the  suppression 
of  slavery,  had  been  the  buying  agent  in  Ohio 
of  the  wool  firm  in  which  Amos  Lawrence  of 
Boston  was  a  member.  We  are  beginning,  are 
we  not,  to  smell  powder?  It  seems,  at  any 
rate,  to  be  a  fact  that  Amos  Lawrence  and  his 
co-workers  in  the  Massachusetts  Emigrant  Aid 
Company  were  soon  giving  not  only  moral 
support  to  the  men  who  were  going  out  to  help 
make  Kansas  a  free  State;  they  were  also,  as 
Frank  Sanborn  makes  very  clear  (in  his  Life  and 
Letters  of  John  Brotvn),  helping  them,  as  early 
as  1855,  by  supplying  them  with  Sharpe's  rifles! 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  193 

John  Brown's  first  visit  to  Boston,  for  the 
purpose  of  advancing  his  plans  for  Kansas  (to 
which  place  he  had  gone,  two  years  earlier, 
from  his  home  in  North  Elba,  New  York), 
occurred  just  after  Christmas,  1856.  He  came 
at  the  invitation  of  George  Luther  Stearns,  a 
wealthy  Boston  manufacturer  whose  home  was 
in  Medford  and  who  had  married  the  niece  of 
Lydia  Maria  Child.  The  next  Sunday,  the  first 
in  January,  1857,  Brown  went  to  the  Boston 
Music  Hall  to  hear  Theodore  Parker  preach. 
He  seems  indeed  to  have  met  a  number  of  the 
Abolitionists  of  the  city  during  his  stay  here 
and  to  have  stimulated  very  effectively  the 
determination  which  existed  to  make  Kansas 
a  free  State.  The  crisis  called  for  action.  For 
in  spite  of  yeoman  service  rendered  by  Sumner 
in  the  Senate  the  Missouri  Compromise  had 
been  repealed  and  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill 
passed.  This  Bill  provided  that  the  question  of 
slavery  in  a  State  should  be  determined  by  those 
who  settled  there.  The  need  of  the  moment 
was  that  Kansas  should  be  settled  by  colonists 
who  would  be  anti-slavery  men,  men  who 
should  send  forth  an  "  everlasting  No  "  to 
every  scheme  to  advance  the  Southern  interest. 

Boston  became  the  centre  of  operation  for  the 
ensuing  organization.  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley 
Howe,  who  had  fought  for  Greek  independence 
and  participated  also  in  the  revolutionary  strug- 


194  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

gles  of  Poland  and  France,  took  an  especially 
deep  interest  in  making  Kansas  a  Free  State, 
and  at  his  office  on  Bromfield  Street  were  to  be 
met  those  men  and  women  who  were  similarly 
concerned.  For  while  the  men  were  raising 
funds  to  furnish  the  Kansas  colonists  with 
Sharpe's  rifles  and  ammunition  the  women  were 
getting  together  clothing  and  money  for  food 
to  be  forwarded  by  a  committee  of  which  Mrs. 
Samuel  Cabot,  Jr.,  was  the  efficient  and  ad- 
mirable head. 

Sumner  imperilled  his  life,  as  the  event 
proved,  for  a  free  Kansas.  At  first  the  pro- 
slavery  element  had  been  successful  out  there  — 
thanks  to  neighboring  Missourians  who  de- 
liberately rode  across  the  line  to  vote  fraudu- 
lently, to  shoot  and  to  rob.  The  Legislature 
which  these  men  put  in  promptly  took  steps 
to  make  Kansas  a  slave  Territory  and  passed 
a  severe  code  of  laws  for  the  protection  of 
slavery.  Northern  men  proceeded  to  ignore 
this  government  as  illegitimate,  by  meeting  in 
convention  at  Topeka,  forming  a  State  Con- 
stitution and  in  turn  seeking  admittance  to 
the  Union.  Thus  there  were  two  authorities 
in  Kansas,  one  pro-slavery,  the  other  anti- 
slavery,  and  for  about  two  years  the  history  of 
the  settlement  was  one  of  disgraceful  violence. 
From  November  first,  1855,  until  that  December 
when  John  Brown  came  to  Boston  and  heard 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  195 

Theodore  Parker  preach  it  was  estimated  that 
about  two  hundred  persons  had  been  killed 
in  the  Territory,  and  property  worth  not  less 
than  two  million  dollars  destroyed. 

For  Bostonians  and  for  the  future,  however^ 
the  most  far-reaching  issue  raised  by  the 
Kansas  question  came  in  the  savage  attack 
made  on  Charles  Sumner,  in  May,  1856,  follow- 
ing what  Whittier  termed  the  "  grand  and 
terrible  philippic  "  delivered  by  that  senator 
against  the  terrible  wrong  to  freedom  which 
had  been  committed  in  the  Territory  by  the 
slave-power.  "  The  Crime  Against  Kansas  " 
Sumner  called  his  speech,  and  he  attacked  with 
special  severity  Senator  Butler  of  South  Caro- 
lina. Preston  S.  Brooks,  a  representative  from 
that  State  and  a  kinsman  of  Butler,  determined 
to  take  revenge,  and  on  May  22,  while  Sumner 
sat  at  his  desk  engaged  in  writing  letters, 
crept  up  upon  him  and  struck  him  again  and 
again  over  the  head  with  a  heavy  walking 
stick.  So  seriously  was  Sumner  injured  by 
this  dastardly  attack  that  he  did  not  recover  for 
a  number  of  years;  but  the  most  important 
result  of  it  all  was  the  indignation  which  was 
everywhere  fomented  in  the  North  against 
the  South  by  a  sympathy  for  Brooks  which  was 
shown  by  returning  him  again  to  Washington. 
Nothing  that  had  occurred  before  the  outbreak 
of  the  war  did  more  to  estrange  the  two  sections 


196  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

than  this.  Sumner  magnanimously  charged 
the  whole  thing  up  where  it  belonged  —  to  the 
slaveholders  of  the  South.  Years  afterward, 
when  walking  with  George  William  Curtis  in 
the  Congressional  Cemetery,  his  attention  was 
called  to  the  cenotaph  of  Brooks,  which  he  had 
not  seen.  "  How  do  you  feel  about  Brooks?  " 
Curtis  asked  him.  "  Only  as  to  a  brick  that 
should  fall  upon  my  head  from  a  chimney," 
came  the  reply.  "  He  was  the  unconscious 
agent  of  a  malign  power." 

That  power  was  soon  to  array  itself  definitively 
against  the  North.  And  it  was  through  Kansas, 
fittingly  enough,  that  the  long-delayed  struggle 
was  precipitated.  For  John  Brown,  as  has  been 
said,  was  the  soul  of  the  organization  through 
which  it  was  ere  long  recognized  that  slaves 
could  not  be  held  in  Kansas.  And  from  Brown's 
success  in  this  connection  it  was  that  he  mus- 
tered resolution  for  that  daring  raid  upon  Har- 
per's Ferry  which  cost  him  his  life  and  per- 
suaded even  Wendell  Phillips,  —  who  had  spent 
years  of  patient  effort  in  the  endeavor  to  avoid 
a  physical  conflict  between  the  North  and  the 
South,  —  that  the  question  could  be  settled 
for  all  time  in  one  way  only  and  that  way  — 
war. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THEODORE  PARKER  AND  HIS  MUSIC  HALL  PULPIT 

WE  have  already  seen  that  during  John 
Brown's  momentous  first  visit  to  Boston 
he  went  to  Music  Hall  to  hear  Theo- 
dore Parker  preach.  Who  else  was  hearing 
Parker?  And  how  did  it  happen  that  this 
greatest  of  Boston  Radicals  was  to  be  enjoyed 
on  Sundays,  only  in  a  hall  which  had  been 
built  for  concert  purposes? 

The  answer  to  these  two  questions  should 
contain  matter  of  deep  interest  to  us  who  are 
now  following  causes  and  currents  in  nine- 
teenth century  Boston.  For  Theodore  Parker 
is  one  of  Boston's  most  distinguished  sons, 
though  he  was  born  not  in  Boston  but  near  by 
in  Lexington,  and  though  Boston  early  repudi- 
ated him.  His  grandfather,  John  Parker,  was 
that  captain  of  minute  men  who  commanded 
his  band  of  followers,  "  Don't  fire  unless  fired 
upon;  but  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war,  let  it 
begin  here ! ''  The  grandson  was  to  take  a 
similarly  indomitable  tone  concerning  resistance 
to  the  slave  power  and  to  theological  tyranny. 


198  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

On  the  mother's  side  there  was  good  stock, 
too.  "  For  she  was,"  wrote  her  famous  son 
in  that  autobiography  which,  unhappily,  is 
merely  a  fragment,  "  eminently  a  religious 
woman.  .  .  .  She  saw  Him  in  the  rainbow,  and 
in  the  drops  of  rain  which  helped  to  compose 
it  as  they  fell  into  the  muddy  ground,  to  come 
up  grass  and  trees  and  corn  and  flowers.  She 
took  a  deep  and  still  delight  in  silent  prayer. 
.  .  .  The  more  spiritual  part  of  the  Bible 
formed  her  favorite  reading;  the  dark  theology 
of  the  times  seems  not  to  have  stained  her  soul 
at  all." 

So  it  was  a  goodly  heritage  which  Parker 
had  in  the  predispositions  of  his  character. 
It  was,  however,  his  sole  heritage.  His  father 
could  not  afford  to  support  him  at  Harvard 
College  (which  the  lad  had  entered  without 
anybody's  advice) ,  and  so,  though  Theodore  took 
all  the  required  studies  and  passed  all  the 
examinations,  he  got  no  degree,  —  because  he 
had  never  resided  in  Cambridge  nor  paid  tuition 
fees.  His  college  days  were  passed  working 
on  the  farm  and  teaching  school  in  North 
Lexington,  Quincy  and  Waltham!  Thus  he 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-one.  Then  (March 
23,  1831)  the  Lexington  home  life  came  defini- 
tively to  an  end  by  his  acceptance  of  a 
position  as  teacher  of  a  private  school  in 
Boston. 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  199 

Writing  Dr.  Howe  in  1860  he  describes 
vividly  his  early  experience  in  the  city  he  was 
to  help  make  famous. 1  "A  raw  boy  with  clothes 
made  by  country  tailors,  coarse  shoes,  great 
hands,  red  lips,  and  blue  eyes,  I  went  to  serve 
in  a  private  school,  where  for  fifteen  dollars  a 
month  and  my  board  I  taught  Latin,  Greek, 
subsequently  French  (!)  and  mathematics  and 
all  sorts  of  philosophy.  ...  I  taught  in  the 
school  six  hours  a  day  and  from  May  to  Sep- 
tember seven;  but  I  had  always  from  ten  to 
twelve  hours  a  day  for  my  own  private  studies 
out  of  school.  .  .  .  Judge  if  I  did  not  work: 
it  makes  my  flesh  creep  to  think  how  I  used  to 
work,  and  how  much  I  learned  that  year  and 
the  four  next.  .  .  .  Oh,  that  I  had  known  the 
art  of  life,  or  found  some  man  to  tell  me  how 
to  live,  to  study,  to  take  exercise.  .  .  .  But  I 
found  none,  and  so  here  I  am."  John  White 
Chadwick,  who  has  written  an  admirable  life 
of  Theodore  Parker,  calls  attention  to  the  self- 
conscious  note  in  this.  The  lad  from  Lexington 
seems,  indeed,  to  have  been  an  introspective 
person  and  one  who,  though  gay,  was  not  very 
happy.  Very  likely  this  was  due  to  the  hard- 
ships  he   had   endured   and   to   his   loneliness 

1  Culture  then  came  cheap  in  Boston.  In  the  papers  for  that 
year  may  be  found  the  advertisements  for  the  Boston  Lyceum 
course  of  lectures,  held  Thursday  evenings  at  7  in  the  Masonic 
Temple.  The  price  for  22  lectures  was  $2  (minors  under  eighteen 
$1) .    Rev.  Lyman  Beecher  was  the  first  speaker  in  the  series. 


200  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

during  those  early  formative  years  in  Boston. 
All  through  his  life  he  studied  too  'hard  and  too 
late.  During  that  first  Boston  year  he  read  all  of 
Homer  and  much  of  Xenophon,  Demosthenes, 
and  iEschylus,  studied  German  and  French 
until  he  could  write  as  well  as  read  those  lan- 
guages, and  made  decided  progress,  at  the  same 
time,  in  mathematics  and  philosophy!  No 
wonder  he  shuddered  at  remembering  all  this 
when,  in  what  should  have  been  his  prime,  he 
was  dying  as  a  result  of  it. 

The  next  year  young  Parker  branched  out  and 
opened  a  school  of  his  own  in  Watertown. 
Here  he  made  friends;  came  into  contact  with 
John  Weiss  and  so  with  the  Transcendental 
school  of  thought;  was  elected  superintendent 
of  the  Sunday  School  —  and  became  engaged. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  year  at  Watertown  his 
teaching  ended  and  (in  April,  1834)  he  entered 
the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge  for  the  last 
term  of  the  junior  year.  He  had  saved  the  two 
hundred  dollars  which  would  put  him  through 
this  experience  and  so  he  settled  down  with  high 
courage  in  his  snuggery  at  29  Divinity  Hall,  the 
front  corner  room  towards  the  college  buildings 
and  on  the  upper  floor.  His  extraordinary 
command  of  "  foreign  tongues "  served  him 
well  at  this  stage,  for,  besides  tutoring  lads  in 
Greek  and  German,  he  was  able  to  earn  con- 
siderable money  translating  Lafayette's  letters 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  201 

for  Jared  Sparks,  who  was  then  at  work  on  his 
Life  of  Washington,  Theologically  Parker  was 
quite  sound  all  this  time,  as  we  see  from  the 
"  creed  "  which  he  outlined  in  response  to  the 
request  of  his  nephew,  Columbus  Greene.  One 
sentence  in  this  runs,  "  I  believe  that  Christ 
was  the  son  of  God,  conceived  and  born  in  a 
miraculous  manner,  that  he  came  to  preach  a 
better  religion  by  which  man  may  be  saved." 
Chadwick,  who  should  know,  declares  that  this 
creed  of  Parker's  —  from  which  I  have  quoted 
only  one  sentence,  —  was  "  a  neat  and  com- 
fortable statement  of  the  conservative  Uni- 
tarianism  of  the  time." 

Yet,  when  the  young  "  theologue  "  was  ready 
to  go  forth  from  the  Divinity  School  we  find 
him  writing:  "  What  an  immense  change  has 
taken  place  in  my  opinions  and  feelings  upon 
all  the  main  points  of  inquiry  since  I  entered 
this  place!  "  His  theology  was  now,  indeed, 
so  liberal  that  he  found  it  rather  hard  work  to 
get  a  pulpit.  His  preaching  made  everywhere 
a  good  impression,  but  since  it  was  rumored 
that  he  was  a  "  Transcendentalist,"  a  tag  as 
bewildering  to  the  average  intelligence  in  his 
time  as  in  ours,  committees  acting  upon  candi- 
dates were  inclined  to  go  slow.  For  Emerson 
was  a  "Transcendentalist"  and  he  had  just 
resigned  his  charge  in  Boston  because  he  could 
not  conscientiously  administer  the  Lord's  Sup- 


202  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

per.  Finally,  however,  the  young  parson  was 
called  to  the  Spring  Street  Society  at  West 
Roxbury,  where  he  had  preached  acceptably 
several  times,  at  a  salary  of  $600.  Thus  a  nine 
years'  ministry  of  deep  and  far-reaching  import 
began. 

Just  before  this  Parker  had  been  married 
(April  20,  1837)  to  the  Lydia  Cabot  who  had 
been  a  teacher  in  the  Watertown  Sunday-School 
when  he  was  superintendent,  and  the  two  set 
up  housekeeping  in  a  little  white  house  a  mile 
distant  from  the  church.  Their  garden  plot 
adjoined  the  extensive  grounds  of  George  R. 
Russell,  a  notable  parishioner  and  friend,  and 
was  only  slightly  removed  from  the  estate  of 
Francis  Gould  Shaw,  father  of  the  heroic 
Robert  Gould  Shaw.  So  they  were  very  nobly 
neighbored,  these  two. 

During  his  first  year  in  Roxbury,  Parker's 
sermons  were  simple  and  practical.  He  had 
resolved  to  "  preach  nothing  as  religion  "  which 
he  had  not  "  experienced  inwardly  and  made  my 
own  knowing  it  by  heart."  Once  he  devoted  the 
Sunday  morning  period  to  a  discourse  on  "  The 
Temptations  of  Milkmen! 9i  Of  these  early 
efforts  he  says  himself,  "  The  simple  life  of  the 
farmers,  mechanics  and  milkmen  about  me, 
of  its  own  accord  turned  into  a  sort  of  poetry 
and  reappeared  in  the  sermons,  as  the  green 
woods  not  far  off  looked  into  the  windows  of 


n 
o 

,<»   n 


CORNER  OF  TREMONT  AND  BROMFIELD  STREETS  ABOUT  1870. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  203 

the  meeting-house."  That  his  sermons  should 
have  been  thus  simple  in  style  is  greatly  to  the 
man's  credit  inasmuch  as  he  was  already  the 
master  of  twenty  languages  and  of  much  of  the 
literature  in  which  these  twenty  are  employed. 
This,  too,  in  an  age  when  German  dictionaries 
were  so  rare  that  Parker  once  walked  from 
Watertown  to  Professor  Ticknor's  in  Boston 
to  consult  one.  An  ordinary  day  with  this 
prodigious  student,  —  before  his  marriage,  — 
has  been  described  thus,  "  Rising  at  seven, 
before  the  midday  meal  he  read  the  books  of 
Esther,  Nehemiah,  Solomon's  Song,  first  twelve 
chapters  of  Isaiah;  wrote  part  of  a  sermon; 
finished  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages  of  Allan's 
Life  of  Scott  and  two  of  Herder's  Brief e. 
After  dinner  read  in  a  desultory  manner; 
walked  two  or  three  miles;  found  a  queer  plant; 
gathered  chestnuts;  geologized  a  little;  went 
to  ride  .  .  .  took  tea  "  and  reluctantly  devoted 
the  evening  to  social  intercourse. 

Obviously  this  man  greatly  needed  a  wife 
who  should  curb  his  terrifying  devotion  to 
books.  Mrs.  Parker  was  of  quite  different 
fibre  from  most  of  the  women  we  have  been 
encountering  in  these  pages,  for  she  was  not 
at  all  intellectual.  She  could  not  share  in  the 
least  her  husband's  passion  for  books  and  it  was 
not  until  his  humanitarianism  developed  that 
they  found  a  field  of  common  interest.    But  she 


204  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

satisfied  at  first  and  always  the  man's  ardently 
affectionate  nature.  Early  in  the  Roxbury 
years,  while  she  was  absent  on  a  visit,  we  find 
this  entry  in  his  journal,  "  At  home  nominally; 
but  since  wife  is  gone  my  home  is  in  New  Jersey. 
I  miss  her  absence  —  wicked  woman !  —  most 
exceedingly.  I  cannot  sleep  or  eat  or  work 
without  her.  It  is  not  so  much  the  affection 
she  bestows  on  me  as  that  she  receives  by 
which  I  am  blessed.  I  want  someone  always 
in  the  arms  of  my  heart  to  caress  and  comfort. 
...  I  can  do  nothing  without  Lydia  —  not 
even  read." 

It  is  pleasant  to  realize  that  Parker,  who  was 
soon  to  be  branded  as  a  heretic  and  carefully 
avoided  as  such  by  almost  all  of  his  fellow- 
clergy,  had  always  at  hand  the  love  and  the 
sympathy  of  this  Lydia  who  satisfied  his  hungry 
heart.  As  he  approached  his  thirtieth  year 
there  began  to  be  many  and  unmistakable  signs 
that  he  would  not  be  acceptable  to  the  other 
Unitarians  of  his  day.  In  1840  he  and  his 
Brook  Farm  neighbor,  George  Ripley,  walked 
thirty  miles  to  attend  a  Groton  convention  of 
"  come  outers  "  and  he  made  a  speech  indicting 
sectarianism  and  pleading  for  religious  unity  and 
"  the  Christianity  of  Christ."  That  same  year 
he  records  in  his  journal  the  fact  that  he  has 
repeatedly  solicited  an  exchange  with  this,  that 
and  the  other  clergyman,  but  in  vain. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  205 

On  May  19,  1841,  however,  he  did  have  an 
opportunity  to  preach  in  another  minister's 
pulpit  and  he  gave  an  address  which  has  become 
historic.  The  place  was  the  South  Boston 
Unitarian  Church  and  the  occasion  the  installa- 
tion of  Rev.  Charles  C.  Shackford.  The  sermon 
was  an  impassioned  assertion  of  the  permanence 
and  value  of  Christianity  as  embodied  in  the 
teachings  of  Jesus,  that  "  pure  ideal  religion 
which  Jesus  saw  on  the  mount  of  his  vision, 
and  lived  out  in  the  lowly  life  of  a  Galilean 
peasant."  Yet  in  the  same  sermon  Jesus  was 
said  to  have  founded  no  institutions,  the 
preacher  vigorously  maintaining  that  "if  it 
could  be  proved  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  had 
never  lived,  still  Christianity  would  stand  firm 
and  fear  no  evil." 

The  chief  offence  of  the  sermon  seems  to 
have  been  Parker's  denial  that  belief  in  the 
miracles  is  essential  to  the  support  of  Chris- 
tianity. Andrews  Norton  had  recently  been 
contending  (in  The  Latest  Form  of  Infidelity) 
''  that  no  man  is  a  Christian  who  does 
not  believe  in  the  Christian  truth  because  of 
some  miraculous  affirmation."  To  this  Parker 
replied,  by  implication,  that  to  believe  in 
Christian  truth  only  as  miraculously  attested 
was  to  do  it  a  great  irreverence.  Now  this  was 
"  heresy  "  and  the  man  promoting  it  must  be 
ostracized.      Mrs.     Cheney     in    her   Reminis- 


206  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

cences  tells  an  amusing  story  which  indicates 
the  feeling  which  prevailed  in  regard  to  Parker 
and  his  South  Boston  sermon.  Miss  Cornelia 
Walter,  long  editorial  director  of  the  Boston 
Transcript  in  the  place  of  her  brother  Lynde 
Walter,  who  had  broken  down  in  health,  was 
reading  the  sermon  aloud  to  her  invalid  when 
her  mother,  a  sweet  old  lady,  came  into  the 
room.  "  Whose  sermon  is  that?  "  she  asked. 
"  It  is  by  a  Mr.  Parker,"  answered  her  daughter. 
The  name,  then  unfamiliar,  suggested  nothing 
to  the  questioner,  so  she  inquired,  "  To  what 
sect  does  he  belong?  "  Not  wishing  to  shock  her, 
her  daughter  replied,  "  I  think  they  call  him  a 
Spiritualist."  "  I  should  think  so,"  was  the 
old  lady's  comment,  "  for  it  is  the  most  spiritual 
thing  I  ever  heard."  Yet  when  she  learned 
what  sermon  it  was  she  had  been  led  to  praise 
she  was  very  indignant. 

The  ministers  in  the  South  Boston  Church 
that  morning  the  sermon  was  delivered  appear 
to  have  been  very  like  Mrs.  Walter  in  their 
attitude  towards  it.  All  the  hue  and  cry  about 
its  heresy  came  after  the  event  and  in  response 
to  the  demand  of  an  ultra-orthodox  parson 
who  demanded  Parker's  arrest  for  heresy. 
Whereupon  a  Unitarian  layman  wrote  in  the 
Boston  Courier,  "  I  would  rather  see  every 
Unitarian  congregation  in  our  land  dissolved 
and   every   one   of   our  churches   occupied   by 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  207 

other  denominations  or  razed  to  the  ground 
than  to  assist  in  placing  a  man  entertaining 
the  sentiments  of  Theodore  Parker  in  one  of 
our  pulpits."  This  was  so  general  a  sentiment 
that  exchanges  for  which  Parker  had  arranged 
were  cancelled  and  those  solicited  were  refused 
until,  by  the  beginning  of  the  year  1843,  gather- 
ings of  Unitarian  ministers  were  asking  this 
very  particular  question  in  regard  to  him, 
"  Can  a  believer  in  Christianity  who  rejects 
the  miracles  or  does  not  believe  because  of  them 
be  considered  a  Christian?  " 

Happily,  the  West  Roxbury  people,  who  could 
have  turned  Parker  out  of  his  parish,  declined 
to  persecute  as  a  heretic  their  greatly  beloved 
pastor.  Instead,  they  made  their  faith  in  him 
and  their  affection  for  him  clearer  than  ever 
and  granted  him  the  year's  leave  of  absence  he 
desired  in  order  that  he  have  in  Europe  the 
much-needed  rest  for  which  a  kind  friend  had 
furnished  the  means.  It  was  during  this  trip 
abroad  that  Parker  called,  in  Berlin,  on  Bettine 
von  Arnim,  whose  friendship  with  Goethe  had 
made  glorious  her  long-vanished  girlhood. 

He  was  not  even  shocked  when  Bettine  told 
him  that  she  prayed  to  Jupiter  and  that,  in  her 
opinion,  Christ  the  person  had  done  more  harm 
to  the  world  than  any  other  man.  "  I  found, 
however,  that  for  the  man  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
and  for  all  the  great  doctrines  of  religion  she  had 


208  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  profoundest  respect,"  Parker  writes,  and  he 
adds  simply,  "  I  told  her  there  was,  to  my 
thinking,  but  one  religion,  —  that  was  being 
good  and  doing  good." 

Boston  greatly  needed  a  strong  man  who 
should  preach  this  religion  and  a  little  group 
who  so  believed  resolved  "  that  Theodore  Par- 
ker should  be  heard."  Accordingly,  soon  after 
his  return  from  Europe  he  began  that  series 
of  Sunday  morning  sermons  in  the  Melodeon 
Theatre,  Washington  Street,  which  continued  for 
seven  years  or  until  the  Twenty  Eighth  Con- 
gregational Society  of  Worship,  popularly  known 
as  "  the  Twenty  Eighth,"  secured  the  larger 
quarters  at  Music  Hall  with  which  Parker's 
fame  is  indissolubly  linked. 

The  first  Sunday  in  Boston  was  cold,  dark  and 
rainy  with  the  streets  full  of  slush  and  a  de- 
pressing air  of  gloom  everywhere.  But  the 
hall  was  crowded,  for  lovers  of  truth  had  flocked 
in  from  the  suburban  towns  and  from  all 
parts  of  Boston  to  hear  what  this  "  heretic  " 
should  have  to  say.  Ere  long  there  were 
7000  ( !)  names  on  the  parish  register  and  to  this 
multitude  Parker  aspired  to  be  as  much  a 
pastor  as  he  had  been  to  the  sixty  families 
in  his  Roxbury  church.  For  more  than  a  year, 
too,  he  continued  to  keep  up  the  Roxbury 
work. 

Glad  as  he  was  to  be  preaching  in  Boston 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  209 

there  were  many  things  in  his  new  environment 
that  jarred  upon  Parker.     He  had   the  New 
England  minister's  love  for  the  homely  decencies 
of  worship  and  his  new  nock's  habit  of  reading 
their  newspapers  while  waiting  for  the  service 
to  begin  accorded  ill  with  his  inherited  church 
traditions.      The   place,    too,    was    dingy    and 
unattractive.    In  the  last  sermon  given  there 
we  get  a  picture  of  it  as  it  appeared  to  Parker: 
'  We  must  bid  farewell  to  these  old  walls.    They 
have    not    been    very    comfortable.       All    the 
elements  have  been  hostile.     The  winter's  cold 
has  chilled  us;    the  summer's  heat  has  burned 
us;    the  air  has  been  poisoned  with  contamina- 
tions, a  whole  week  long  in  collecting;    and  the 
element  of  earth,  the  dirt,  that  was  everywhere. 
As  I  have  stood  here,  I  have  often  seen  the 
spangles   of  opera   dancers,   who   beguiled   the 
previous  night,  lying  on  the  floor  beside  me. 
.  .  .  Dancing    monkeys    and    '  Ethiopian  sere- 
nades '  making  vulgar  merriment  out   of   the 
ignorance  and  wretchedness   of  the  American 
slave  have  occupied  this  spot  during  the  week 
and   left   their   marks,    their   instruments    and 
their  breath  behind  them  on  Sunday." 

This  passage  is  significant  for  its  reflection 
of  Parker's  tremendous  sympathy  with  the 
slave  and  his  interest  in  the  movement  which 
was  struggling  to  set  him  free.  In  the  same 
year  with  his  South  Boston    sermon  he  had 


210  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

preached  for  the  first  time  on  the  Great  Ameri- 
can Evil,  but  his  most  important  early  contri- 
bution to  the  anti-slavery  cause  was  not  a 
sermon  at  all  but  a  "  Letter  to  the  People  of 
The  United  States  Touching  the  Matter  of 
Slavery."  This  document  (dated  December 
22,  1847)  is  a  masterly  presentation  of  the  case 
against  Slavery.  Ten  pages  are  given  to  the 
history  of  slavery,  eight  to  the  condition  and 
treatment  of  slaves,  ten  to  the  effects  on  in- 
dustry, two  to  effects  on  population,  ten  to 
effects  on  education,  fifteen  to  effects  on  law  and 
politics  and  five  to  "  Slavery  Considered  as  a 
Wrong."  Though  dignified  and  dispassionate 
the  thing  is  simply  overwhelming  in  its  presen- 
tation of  facts  and  figures.  The  closing  para- 
graph of  the  "  Letter  "  well  illustrates  Parker's 
forceful  style. 

"  Across  the  Stage  of  Time  the  nations  pass 
in  the  solemn  pomp  of  their  historical  proces- 
sion. What  kingly  forms  sweep  by,  leading 
the  peoples  of  the  past,  the  present  age!  Let 
them  pass  —  their  mingled  good  and  ill.  A 
great  People  now  comes  forth,  the  newest 
born  of  nations,  the  latest  Hope  of  Mankind, 
the  Heir  of  sixty  centuries,  —  the  Bridegroom 
of  the  virgin  West.  First  come  those  Pilgrims, 
few  and  far  between,  who  knelt  on  the  sands  of 
a  wilderness.  .  .  .  Then  comes  the  One  with 
venerable  face,  who  ruled  alike  the  Senate  and 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  211 

the  Camp,  and  at  whose  feet  the  attendant 
years  spread  garlands  and  laurel  wreaths  calling 
him  First  in  War  and  First  in  Peace  and  First 
in  his  Country's  Heart,  as  it  is  in  his.  Then 
follow  men  bearing  the  first  fruits  of  our  toil, 
the  wealth  of  sea  and  land,  the  labors  of  the 
loom,  the  stores  of  commerce  and  the  arts. 
A  happy  People  comes,  some  with  shut  Bibles 
in  their  hands,  some  with  the  nation's  laws, 
some  uttering  those  mighty  Truths  which  God 
has  writ  on  Man  and  men  have  copied  into 
golden  words.  Then  comes  to  close  this  long 
historic  pomp  —  the  panorama  of  the  world  — 
the  Negro  Slave,  bought,  bonded,  beat." 

Parker  could  occasionally  be  very  effective 
as  a  satirist.  In  his  "  Anti-Slavery  "  Scrap 
Book  (now  in  the  Boston  Public  Library) 
may  be  found  "  Another  Chapter  in  the  Book 
of  Daniel,"  written  for  the  New  York  Tribune 
apropos  of  the  capture  of  Shadrach.  The 
bitter  allusions  to  Webster  make  this  lampoon 
very  interesting.  "  Now  it  came  to  pass  in 
the  latter  days  that  Daniel  was  King  over  all 
the  children  of  Jonathan,  which  had  waxed 
many  and  fat  in  the  land.  And  by  reasons 
which  the  prophet  detaileth  not  Daniel's  head 
was  turned  and  he  went  after  the  strange 
gods.  ..."  Then  comes  an  account  of 
Daniel's  gradual  surrender  to  these  gods  of  the 
"  Southernites  "  followed  by  several  very  telling 


212  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

paragraphs  about  "  the  great  city  of  the  North- 
ernites  which  lieth  to  the  eastward  on  the  sea 
shore,  as  thou  goest  down  to  the  old  country 
and  it  is  called  Boston.  .  .  . 

"  And  in  that  city  there  was  a  street  called 
Milk,  peradventure  because  it  is  the  dwelling 
place  of  so  many  of  the  babes  and  sucklings 
of  commerce.  And  also  another  called  State, 
wherein  be  the  priests'  offices,  and  the  temples 
of  their  chief  gods. 

"  For  in  that  city  they  did  worship  many 
strange  gods,  whereof  the  chief  was  called 
Money,  an  idol  whose  head  was  of  fine  gold, 
the  belly  of  silver  and  legs  of  copper;  but  second 
thereto  was  another  notable  idol  called  Cotton. 
'  Unto  this  latter  they  did  sacrifice,  and  built 
him  high  places  and  factories,  by  the  brooks 
that  run  among  the  hills,  and  bowed  down  and 
worshipped  him  saying,  Cotton,  help  us!  Cot- 
ton, help  us!  .  .  . 

"  Then  they  held  a  meeting  and  cried  out, 
'  Great  is  Cotton  of  the  Bostonians;  there  is 
no  God  but  Money,  no  Lord  but  Cotton;  no 
King  but  Daniel;  nothing  better  than  Riches; 
and  no  Justice  but  only  the  laws  of  Daniel.' 
Then  said  they,  we  be  a  great  people."  After 
which  comes  a  description  of  the  capture  of 
Shadrach,  "  a  servant  in  an  inn  "  whom  they 
"  took  away  from  his  frying  pans  and  his 
skillets   and   his   ovens   and   his   gridirons   and 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  213 

his  spits  "  but  whom,  none  the  less,  the  Lord 
delivered.     Whereupon 

'  The  Worshippers  of  Money  and  of  Cotton 
fell  down  on  their  faces  and  wept  sore,  and  they 
said,  Alas  for  us,  the  Lord  has  triumphed  and 
Cotton  has  fallen  down!  Lo  Daniel  will  hate 
us,  and  will  make  a  proclamation  and  send  a 
message  and  the  Southernites  will  be  upon  us 
and  take  away  our  hope  of  a  tariff.  We  will 
be  all  dead  men!  And  their  hearts  became  as 
a  dog's  heart  when  he  barketh,  but  knoweth 
not  whom  he  may  bite." 

Parker's  later  service  to  the  anti-slavery 
cause  came  largely  in  his  sermons.  Every  event 
bearing  on  this  great  topic  was  "  improved  " 
by  him.  Thus  his  enormous  following  heard 
the  annexation  of  Texas,  the  rendition  of 
fugitive  slaves,  the  war  with  Mexico  and  every 
related  event  discussed  with  the  fiery  ardor 
which  marked  his  pulpit  style.  At  Faneuil  Hall 
and  on  the  lecture  platform  throughout  the 
Free  States  he  was  frequently  heard  in  the  same 
cause.  Unlike  Garrison  and  Phillips  he  de- 
fended the  Union  as  the  instrument  by  which 
slavery  would  be  abolished,  thus  showing  his 
clear  vision.  He  differed  from  Garrison,  also, 
in  his  estimate  of  the  negro  character.  Chad- 
wick  says:  "  Edward  Everett  had  a  more 
favorable  opinion  of  it.  Emerson's  was  more 
genial   and   more  just.     Parker's   estimate   of 


214  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  negro,  intellectually  and  morally,  was  low. 
He  exaggerated  the  sensuality  of  the  negro 
as  he  did  that  of  the  Jew,  whom  he  placed 
only  a  little  higher  in  this  respect.  Moreover, 
the  negro  had  for  him  a  certain  physical  re- 
pulsion. But  his  humanity  easily  absorbed  the 
instinctive  repulsion  and  the  theoretic  doubts. 
He  could  see  no  human  creature  wronged  and 
not  feel  the  pain  in  his  own  side.  The  limita- 
tions of  the  negro,  as  he  conceived  them,  were 
not  reasons  for  degrading  him.  They  were 
appeals  to  his  benevolence  and  were  responded 
to  as  such." 

Half  the  leaves  in  the  Scrap-Book  already 
referred  to  (and  called  by  Parker  "  Memoranda 
of  the  Troubles  Occasioned  by  the  Infamous 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  from  March  15,  1851,  to 
February  19,  1856  ")  are  devoted  to  posters 
warning  the  fugitives  of  danger  and  summoning 
their  friends  to  the  rescue;  and  many  of  these 
bear  unmistakably  the  mark  of  Parker's  hand. 
In  William  and  Ellen  Craft,  of  which  one  sees 
repeated  mention,  he  was  especially  interested, 
marrying  them  at  a  colored  boarding-house  in 
Boston,  —  and  using  a  Bible  and  a  bowie  knife 
in  the  place  of  the  usual  symbols!  These  two 
defences  happened  to  be  lying  on  a  table  and 
Parker  put  them  into  the  husband's  hands, 
telling  him  to  use  the  one  for  his  soul  and  the 
other  for  his  body's  safety.     When  the  kid- 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  215 

nappers  were  in  hot  pursuit  of  Ellen  Craft 
she  was  sheltered  in  his  house,  and  after  her 
marriage  Parker  started  the  pair  off  to  England 
armed  with  a  letter  commending  them  to 
James  Martineau's  parochial  care.  Occasional 
communications  from  the  Crafts  may  be  found 
in  later  numbers  of  the  Liberator. 

The  year  1852  in  Parker's  life  is  marked  by 
two  events  of  note :  his  Webster  funeral  oration 
and  his  removal  to  Music  Hall.  The  former 
antedates  the  latter  by  three  weeks  and  this 
is  rather  a  pity  since  we  may  not  ascribe  to 
the  more  dignified  background  such  a  sentence 
as  this,  in  which  the  complicity  of  the  North 
with  Slavery  is  described:  "  Slavery  the  most 
hideous  snake  which  Southern  regions  breed, 
with  fifteen  unequal  feet  came  crawling  North; 
fold  on  fold,  and  ring  on  ring,  and  coil  on  coil 
the  venomed  monster  came:  then  Avarice, 
the  foulest  worm  which  Northern  cities  gender 
in  their  heat,  went  crawling  South;  with  many 
a  wriggling  curl  it  wound  along  its  way.  At 
length  they  met  and  twisting  up  in  their  obscene 
embrace,  the  twain  became  one  monster."  An 
extraordinary  funeral  oration  this  and  unspeak- 
ably bitter  in  its  reproaches  of  certain  public 
acts  of  Webster !  Yet  it  is  generally  conceded  to 
be,  in  its  tenderer  passages,  as  fair  an  estimate 
of  Webster's  private  character  as  any  essay 
or  oration  of  which  he  is  the  subject. 


216  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Parker's  first  sermon  in  Music  Hall  was 
preached  November  21, 1852,  on  "  The  Position 
and  Duty  of  a  Minister."  Therein  he  told  his 
people  with  his  usual  directness  and  simplicity 
that  he  had  "  great  faith  in  preaching;  faith 
that  a  religious  sentiment,  a  religious  idea 
will  revolutionize  the  world  to  beauty,  holiness, 
peace  and  love."  On  this  occasion,  as  on  many 
a  subsequent  one,  this  immense  hall,  then  brand 
new,  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  1500  people  in 
the  chairs  on  the  main  floor,  700  in  the  two 
narrow  galleries  or  balconies  and  a  few  hundred 
more  standing  or  overflowing  upon  the  stage 
where  a  kind  of  body  guard  of  Parker's  personal 
friends  usually  sat,  a  little  withdrawn  from  the 
central  figure  who  dominated  the  whole.  The 
crowd  was  promiscuous  and  there  was  no 
collection  and  no  "  sittings,"  the  expenses 
being  met  by  voluntary  contributions  from  an 
inner  circle  of  devoted  friends.  The  service 
was  very  plain:  Bible  reading  with  anything 
omitted  which  offended  the  minister's  moral 
sense  and  hymns  sung  by  the  choir  from  what 
Parker  was  wont  to  call  "  The  Sam  Book  "  — 
because  it  was  compiled  by  Samuel  Johnson 
and  Samuel  Longfellow.  The  sermon,  read 
from  manuscript,  was  accompanied  by  no 
graces  either  of  manner  or  of  delivery.  But 
the  preacher  had  lived  and  thought  and  felt 
and  read  deeply,  and  his  strong  simple  sinewy 


Copyright,  1900,  by  A.  H.  Richards. 

OLD    BOSTON    MUSIC    HALL,    WHERE    PARKER    PREACHED. 


Copyright,  1901,  by  A.  H.  Rickards. 
THE    CITY   HALL   OF   PARKER'S   DAY. 


-J» 


WASHINGTON    STREET,    SOUTH    OF    MILK    STREET   IN    1858. 


IN    OLD    BOSTON  217 

words  went  straight  to  the  intelligence  of  his 
hearers,  of  whom  more  than  one  went  away  to 
say,  like  a  certain  plain  man  whose  comment 
has  come  down  to  us,  "  Is  that  Theodore  Par- 
ker? You  told  me  he  was  remarkable  but  I 
understood  every  word  he  said." 

There  were  prayers,  too,  at  this  "  church," 
"  talks  with  God  "  which  heartened  all  who 
heard  them,  so  simply  beautiful  were  they. 
Louisa  Alcott  first  heard  Parker  when  he  was 
preaching  to  "  laborious  young  women  "  and 
the  sermon  helped  her  and  inspired  her.  Yet 
her  most  appreciative  word  is  for  the  prayer, 
"  unlike  any  I  had  ever  heard;  not  cold  and 
formal  as  if  uttered  from  a  sense  of  duty,  not 
a  display  of  eloquence  nor  an  impious  directing 
of  Deity  in  his  duties  towards  humanity.  It 
was  a  quiet  talk  with  God,  as  if  long  intercourse 
and  much  love  had  made  it  natural  and  easy 
for  the  son  to  seek  the  Father  .  .  .  and  the 
phrase,  '  Our  Father  and  our  Mother  God ' 
was  inexpressibly  sweet  and  beautiful,  seeming 
to  invoke  both  power  and  love  to  sustain  the 
anxious  overburdened  hearts  of  those  who 
listened  and  went  away  to  labor  and  to  wait 
with  fresh  hope  and  faith." 

Parker  was  very  happy  at  Music  Hall  and 
he  gave  himself  more  devotedly  than  ever  to 
his  Sunday  preaching.  Sometimes  his  sermons 
were  roughly  blocked  out  four  years  in  advance ! 


218  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

And  the  crowds  continued  to  come  gladly  be- 
cause, as  Lowell  puts  it  in  his  Fable  for  Critics, 

"  Every  word  that  he  speaks  has  been  fierily  furnaced 
In  the  blast  of  a  life  that  has  struggled  in  earnest:  .  .  . 
You  forget  the  man  wholly,  you're  so  thankful  to  meet 
With  a  preacher  who  smacks  of  the  field  and  the  street." 

Nothing  that  is  a  part  of  human  life  seemed 
to  Parker  beyond  the  pale  as  pulpit  matter. 
Like  Whitman  he  believed  in  the  excellence  of 
the  human  body;  his  sympathy  with  Mother 
Nature  in  her  manifold  aspects  was  likewise 
akin  to  Whitman's.  And  often  he  would  preach 
of  these  things,  exalting  as  part  of  the  God- 
given  scheme  man's  passional  nature  and  all 
that  marriage  should  mean  to  the  young  people 
who  sat  at  his  feet.  "  A  real  happy  marriage  of 
love  and  judgment  between  a  noble  man  and 
woman  is  one  of  the  things  so  very  handsome," 
he  once  said  in  a  sermon,  "  that  if  the  sun  were, 
as  the  Greeks  fabled,  a  god,  he  might  stop  the 
world  and  hold  it  still  now  and  then  in  order 
to  look  all  day  long  on  some  example  thereof 
and  feast  his  eyes  on  such  a  spectacle."  Yet, 
when  all  is  said,  the  strength  of  Parker's  preach- 
ing lay  chiefly  in  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
exalter  of  righteousness.  It  was  in  this,  of 
course,  that  the  poignant  appeal  of  his  anti- 
slavery  sermons  lay. 

Such  a  man  as  Parker,  with  a  strong  grasp 
on  the  homely  verities,  with   profound  scholar- 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  219 

ship,  —  which  he  yet  knew  how  to  adapt  to 
a  popular  audience,  —  and  with  an  impelling 
ethical  ideal  would  be  sure  of  a  warm  welcome 
on  the  hospitable  lyceum  platform  of  the  day. 
During  the  winter  following  his  return  from 
Europe  he  lectured  forty  times  and  from  that 
time  on  an  ordinary  year  with  him  ranged 
anywhere  from  fifty  lectures  to  ninety-eight, 
his  record.  When  the  comparatively  slow  means 
of  transportation  is  taken  into  account  and  the 
fact  recalled  that  he  almost  always  preached 
in  his  own  pulpit  on  Sunday  it  will  be  seen 
that  this  represents  enormous  activity.  More- 
over, he  was  a  voluminous  correspondent, 
writing  exhaustive  letters  with  his  own  hand 
to  scholars  who  wanted  criticism,  students 
who  wanted  suggestions,  common  folk  who 
wanted  advice  and  friends  who  wanted  —  him. 
In  the  biographies  of  celebrities  of  this  period 
one  encounters  scores  of  these  letters.  One 
which  I  have  just  happened  to  see  in  a  "  Life  " 
of  Parkman  embodies  long  and  careful  criticism 
of  the  most  stimulating  kind  of  The  Con- 
spiracy  of  Pontiac  which  had  just  been 
published.  And  this  was  only  one  of  a  thousand 
such  letters  written  by  Parker  that  year  in 
the  scant  leisure  left  after  his  many  other  more 
pressing  duties  were  performed! 

Partly   because  it   gives   a  good   picture   of 
Parker  at  work  and  partly  because  of  its  in- 


220  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

teresting  observations  on  the  Lyceum  as  an 
institution  I  want  to  quote  here  from  a  letter 
once  sent  to  his  friend,  Miss  Sarah  Hunt, 
while  en  tour:  "  The  business  of  lecturing  is 
an  original  American  contrivance  for  educating 
the  people.  The  world  has  nothing  like  it. 
In  it  are  combined  the  best  things  of  the  Church, 
i.  e.,  the  preaching,  and  of  the  College,  i.  e., 
the  informing  thought,  with  some  of  the  fun 
of  the  Theatre.  .  .  .  But  none  know  the  hard- 
ships of  the  lecturer's  life.  ...  In  one  of  the 

awful  nights  in  winter  I  went  to  lecture  at 

It  was  half  charity.  I  gave  up  the  Anti-Slavery 
Festival,  rode  fifty-six  miles  in  the  cars,  leaving 
Boston  at  half-past  four  o'clock  and  reaching 
the  end  of  the  railroad  at  half -past  six  —  drove 
seven  miles  in  a  sleigh,  and  reached  the  house 

of who  had  engaged  [me]  to  come.     It  was 

time;  I  lectured  one  hour  and  three-quarters 
and  returned  to  the  house.  Was  offered  no 
supper  before  the  lecture,  and  none  after,  till 
the  sleigh  came  to  the  door  to  take  me  back 
again  to  the  railroad  station  seven  miles  off 
[near  which]  I  was  to  pass  the  night  and  take 
the  cars  at  half -past  six  the  next  morning. 

"  Luckily,  I  always  carry  a  few  little  creature 
comforts  in  my  wallet.  I  ate  a  seed-cake  or 
two  and  a  fig  with  lumps  of  sugar.  We  reached 
a  tavern  at  eleven,  could  get  nothing  to  eat 
at  that  hour,  and  as  it  was  a  temperance  house 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  221 

not  a  glass  of  ale  which  is  a  good  night-cap. 
It  took  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  thaw  out :  — 
went  to  bed  in  a  cold  room,  was  called  up  at 
five,  had  what  is  universal  —  a  tough  steak, 
sour  bread,  potatoes  swimming  in  fat,  —  wanted 
me  to  deduct  from  my  poor  fifteen  dollars  the 
expenses  of  my  nocturnal  ride,  but  I  '  could  not 
make  the  change.'  :  Usually  Parker's  fee  for 
lecturing  (after  he  had  reached  his  full  intel- 
lectual stature,  that  is)  was  "  F.  A.  M.  E.,  i.  e., 
Fifty  And  My  Expenses."  Thus  he  was  able 
to  buy  himself  more  and  more  books  and  to 
cut  down  voluntarily  his  salary  at  Music  Hall. 
Very  reluctantly  he  now  (1847)  gave  up  his 
white  cottage  in  West  Roxbury  and  made  his 
home  in  Exeter  Place,  his  house  there  touching 
yards  with  that  of  Wendell  Phillips.  Phillips 
records  that  often,  as  he  looked  from  his  own 
chamber  window  late  at  night,  when  some 
lecture  engagement  had  kept  him  out  until 
the  "  wee  sma'  hours,"  he  would  see  in  Parker's 
study  the  unquenched  light  which  meant  that 
the  insatiable  student  was  still  hard  at  work. 
These  night  vigils  ere  long  were  to  cost  the 
man  his  life.  By  the  time  he  was  forty-three 
Parker  had  warnings  that  he  was  not  to  live 
to  be  an  old  man,  and  three  years  later,  while 
lecturing  in  New  Bedford,  sight,  hearing  and 
speech  suddenly  gave  out.  Yet  after  taking  a 
glass  of  sherry  at  a  nearby  drug-shop  he  was 


222  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

able  to  return  and  finish  his  lecture.  He 
would  not  allow  himself,  indeed,  the  luxury 
of  being  ill,  and  the  result  was  that,  in  January, 
1859,  he  was  told  that  the  consumption  which 
he  knew  to  be  a  family  tendency,  had  obtained 
such  a  hold  upon  him  that  there  was  only  one 
chance  in  ten  of  his  recovery.  In  pursuit  of 
this  chance  he  spent  a  year  in  Italy  and  there, 
in  Florence,  he  died  May  10,  1860»  Among 
his  last  words  were,  "  There  are  two  Theodore 
Parkers  now:  one  is  dying  here  in  Italy;  the 
other  I  have  planted  in  America."  Neither  are 
forgotten.  For  pilgrimages  are  constantly  being 
made  to  his  grave  in  the  Protestant  cemetery  at 
Florence  and,  every  year,  his  moral  beauty  be- 
comes more  and  more  revered  in  the  America  for 
which  he  did  so  much. 


CHAPTER  VII 

boston's  share  in  the  irrepressible  conflict 

IT  was  William  H.  Seward  who,  in  a  speech 
delivered  October  25,  1858,  spoke  of  the 
long  fight  which  he  saw  coming  as  "an 
irrepressible  conflict  between  opposing  and  en- 
during forces."  He  meant  the  force  that 
believed  in  slaveholding  and  the  force  that 
did  not,  but  there  were  those  —  and  they 
included  Wendell  Phillips  —  who  gave  his 
phrase  a  larger  interpretation.  Phillips  saw 
that  the  war  was  really  a  contention  as  to 
whether  Aristocracy  or  Democracy  should  rule 
in  America  and,  being  the  man  he  was,  he 
exulted  over  the  impending  struggle.  Franklin 
Sargent,  who  as  the  son  of  Rev.  John  Sargent 
and  Mrs.  Sargent  of  the  Radical  Club,  had  rare 
opportunities  in  his  youth  to  know  the  great 
men  and  women  of  Boston  in  its  romantic  era, 
has  recently  characterized  Wendell  Phillips  to 
me  as  "  a  handsome  aristocrat  turned  plebeian 
from  principle."  And  T.  W.  Higginson,  who 
also  knew  Phillips  well,  has  told  me  that  the 
great   orator   was   never   more   aristocratic   in 


224  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

aspect  than  when  walking  through  the  streets 
of  his  own  Boston  with  an  ugly  mob  howling 
at  his  heels ;  yet  this  was  the  man  who  five 
days  after  the  attack  on  Fort  Sumter  was 
giving  war  a  warm  welcome  in  Boston  Music 
Hall,  saying,  "I  rejoice  .  .  .  that  for  the  first 
time  in  my  anti-slavery  life,  I  stand  under  the 
stars  and  stripes  *  and  welcome  the  tread  of 
Massachusetts  men  marshalled  for  war." 

The  spirit  in  which  Phillips  said  these  words 
and  had  all  his  life  been  calling  out  to  the 
young  people  with  whom  he  came  in  contact, 
"  Throw  yourself  upon  the  altar  of  some  noble 
cause!  To  rise  in  the  morning  only  to  eat  and 
drink  and  gather  gold  —  that  is  a  life  not  worth 
living,"  is  the  spirit  of  '61  in  Boston.  The 
noble  youth  of  the  time  welcomed  with  out- 
stretched arms  the  possibility  of  doing  something 
to  show  their  love  of  the  Union.  The  sense  of 
romantic  possibilities  near  at  hand  made  them 
feel,  to  quote  Higginson  again,  "as  if  one  had 
learned  to  swim  in  air  and  were  striking  out 
for  some  new  planet." 

Even  Emerson  was  caught  up  in  the  whirl 
of  enthusiasm.  While  John  Brown  lay  in 
prison  awaiting  execution  a  meeting  was  held 

1  Cf .  the  lines  in  John  Boyle  O'Reilly's  poem  on  Phillips  (written 
after  his  death  February  2,  1884) : 

"  A  sower  of  infinite  seed  was  he.  a  woodman  that  hewed  to  the  light, 

Who  dared  to  be  traitor  to  Union  when  the  Union  was  traitor  to 

Right!  " 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  225 

in  Boston  to  raise  funds  for  the  relief  of  his 
impoverished  family,  and  Emerson,  no  less  than 
Phillips,  was  on  hand.  John  A.  Andrew  pre- 
sided, and  it  was  on  this  occasion  that  Rev. 
J.  M.  Manning  of  the  Old  South  Church 
declared,  "  I  am  here  to  represent  the  church 
of  Sam  Adams  and  Wendell  Phillips;  and  I 
want  all  the  world  to  know  that  I  am  not 
afraid  to  ride  in  the  coach  when  Wendell 
Phillips  sits  on  the  box."  Many  a  man  became 
similarly  outspoken  about  his  personal  con- 
viction now  that  the  moment  for  such  demon- 
stration had  arrived.  Woodbury  says  that 
throughout  the  war  Emerson  was  deeply  moved 
in  his  patriotic  feelings  and  rejoiced  in  it  not 
only  as  a  cause  of  civilization  but  for  its  rein- 
vigoration  of  the  spirit  of  the  people.  "  The 
effect  of  it  upon  his  own  thought  was  remark- 
able," he  adds.  "  The  anti-social  and  anar- 
chistic sentiments  which  were  to  be  plentifully 
found  in  his  writings  before  this  time  cease; 
and  in  their  place  there  is  a  powerful  grasp  of 
the  social  unities  embodied  in  the  state  as  a 
main  source  of  the  blessings  of  civilization." 

On  the  stone  erected  on  Soldiers'  Field,  Cam- 
bridge, —  an  athletic  ground  given  to  Harvard 
University  by  Henry  L.  Higginson  to  the 
memory  of  James  Savage,  Jr.,  Charles  Russell 
Lowell,  Edward  Barry  Dalton,  Stephen  George 
Perkins,    James   Jackson   Lowell     and   Robert 


226  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Gould  Shaw,  all  of  whom  died  for  their  country, 
—  is  this  quatrain  of  Emerson's : 

"  Though  love  repine,  and  reason  chafe, 
There  came  a  voice  without  reply,  — 
'Tis  man's  perdition  to  be  safe, 
When  for  the  truth  he  ought  to  die." 

This  high  call  to  sacrifice  was  never  more 
courageously  answered  than  in  the  case  of  the 
Boston  men  who  enlisted  for  the  Civil  War. 
The  very  morning  of  the  attack  upon  Sumter 
forces  began  to  rally  and  individuals  came 
forward  with  offers  of  all  kinds  of  help.  The 
Hon.  William  Gray  immediately  sent  $10,000 
to  the  State  House,  and  the  banks  of  Boston 
offered  to  lend  the  State  $3,000,000  in  advance 
of  legislative  action.  Physicians  and  lawyers 
volunteered  to  take  charge  gratuitously  of  the 
families  of  men  who  went  to  war,  and  the  organ 
of  the  Democrats,  whose  sympathies  had  long 
been  with  the  South  rather  than  with  the  North, 
advised  the  postponement  of  all  other  issues 
until  "  this  self -preserving  issue  is  settled." 
The  total  amount  of  money  expended  by  the 
city,  exclusive  of  State  aid,  is  set  down  at  a 
little  over  $2,500,000. 

Yet  money  was  the  smallest  part  of  what 
Boston  gave  to  this  war.  Twenty-six  thousand 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  men  out  of  a 
population  of  about  178,000/  meant  a  much 
larger  share  of  the  city's  wealth  than  its  financial 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  227 

contribution  represented.  Moreover,  the  work 
done  for  the  Northern  army  by  those  two  noble 
Boston  women  Dorothea  Dix  and  Mrs.  Harrison 
Gray  Otis  cannot  in  any  way  be  estimated.  Of 
Mrs.  Otis  I  shall  be  speaking  at  some  length 
in  a  later  chapter,  so  let  us  here  take  brief 
account  of  Dorothea  Lynde  Dix's  unique  work. 
As  a  young  woman  Dorothea  Dix  had  main- 
tained at  the  home  of  her  grandmother  in  what 
is  now  Dix  Place,  Boston,  one  of  those  famous 
girls'  schools  which  in  the  early  part  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  did  so  much  for  the  character 
of  sensitive  young  women.  Too  much,  indeed, 
for  this  school  had  a  kind  of  Protestant  version 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  system  of  the  confes- 
sional, —  a  shell  post-office  into  which  daily,  if 
possible,  letters  were  to  be  dropped  recording 
the  results  of  the  searching  introspection  re- 
quired by  the  young  schoolmistress  and  by  her 
followed  up.  No  wonder  Miss  Dix  was  a  wreck 
at  thirty -three  as  a  result  of  such  strenuousness. 
Yet  it  was  during  the  ensuing  visit  to  England, 
for  the  recovery  of  her  health,  that  the  horrible 
treatment  then  accorded  the  insane  first  came 
to  this  earnest  woman's  attention.  Up  to  so 
late  a  date  as  1770  Bethlehem  Hospital  in 
London,  popularly  known  as  "  Old  Bedlam," 
was  regarded  as  the  prime  show  in  the  city, 
superior  even  in  the  attractions  it  offered  the 
pleasure  seeker  to  a  bull-baiting  or  a  dog  fight. 


228  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Country  cousins  of  the  average  citizen  were 
taken  for  a  hearty  laugh  to  Bedlam  to  see  the 
madmen  cursing,  raving  and  fighting.  The 
annual  fees  derived  from  this  public  entertain- 
ment amounted  to  several  hundred  pounds.  A 
mad  house  was  a  menagerie  —  nothing  more. 
Against  the  cruelties  of  the  place  Sydney  Smith 
in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  1815-1816,  wrote: 
"  Even  in  the  new  building  the  windows  of  the 
patients'  bedrooms  were  not  glazed  nor  were 
the  latter  warmed." 

Barbarous  England?  Yes,  but  let  us  look 
nearer  home  and  see  what  Miss  Dix  saw  a 
whole  quarter  of  a  century  later.  One  pleasant 
Sunday  morning  as  she  was  coming  out  of  Dr. 
Lowell's  church  after  a  fine  sermon  she  over- 
heard two  gentlemen  speaking  in  such  terms 
of  indignation  and  horror  of  the  treatment  to 
which  the  prisoners  and  lunatics  in  the  East 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  jail  were  subjected 
that  she  forthwith  determined  to  go  there  and 
look  into  the  matter  herself.  She  had  now 
returned  from  abroad  comparatively  well,  and, 
through  the  will  of  her  grandmother,  had  come 
into  a  sufficient  competency  to  enable  her  to 
live  comfortably  and  in  a  leisurely  fashion.  At 
this  time  it  was  her  intention  to  enjoy  a  quiet 
ladylike  life,  devoting  herself  to  literature  and 
study  and  to  the  social  intercourse  which  was 
always  so  delightful  to  her. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  229 

The  visit  to  Cambridge  was  the  turning 
point  of  her  life.  She  found  among  the  prisoners 
a  few  insane  persons  with  whom  she  talked. 
She  noticed  that  there  was  no  stove  in  their 
room,  and  no  means  of  proper  warmth.  She 
saw  at  once  that  only  by  resorting  to  legal 
measures  could  this  be  righted,  so,  without 
delay,  she  caused  the  matter  to  be  brought  up 
before  the  court  then  in  session.  Her  request 
was  granted;   the  cold  rooms  were  warmed. 

Thus  was  begun  her  great  work,  the  work  at 
which  she  labored  steadily  for  the  next  twenty 
years,  or  until  these  abuses  had  been  reformed 
in  nearly  all  the  States  of  the  Union. 

When  the  War  broke  out,  however,  Dorothea 
Dix  saw  that  the  preservation  of  the  Union 
must  take  precedence  over  everything  else  and 
within  a  week  after  the  attack  on  Sumter 
she  had  offered  herself  and  been  accepted  for 
free  hospital  service.  Her  commission  from 
the  Secretary  of  War  declared  her  "  Superin- 
tendent of  Women  Nurses,  to  select  and  assign 
women  nurses  to  general  or  permanent  military 
hospitals,  they  not  to  be  employed  in  such 
hospitals  without  her  sanction  and  approval 
except  in  cases  of  urgent  need."  Naturally, 
her  twenty  years'  experience  in  conquering 
obstacles  of  every  kind  made  her  invaluable 
to  the  Surgeon-General.  For  she  everywhere 
demanded    efficiency    and    sentimentalism    she 


230  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

simply  would  not  have.  Higginson,  in  his 
Cheerful  Yesterdays,  raises  whimsical  objection 
to  Miss  Dix's  ruling  that  no  woman  under 
thirty  need  apply  to  serve  in  government  hos- 
pitals and  that  all  nurses  should  be  plain- 
looking  persons  content  to  be  garbed  in  brown 
or  black  "  with  no  bows,  no  curls,  or  jewels, 
and  no  hoopskirts."  Yet  such  prohibitions 
appear  to  have  been  needed.  Hardly  had  the 
first  shot  been  fired  when  scores  of  women, 
many  of  whom  were  obviously  unfit  for  any- 
thing useful,  presented  themselves  at  head- 
quarters saying,  "  We've  come  to  nurse  "  and 
seeing  no  reason  why  they  should  not  be  as- 
signed work. 

Even  before  she  had  organized  the  nurses, 
however,  Miss  Dix  rendered  a  signal  service 
to  the  Union  cause.  She  it  was  who  revealed 
to  the  proper  authorities  a  bit  of  Southern 
strategy  which  contemplated  the  seizing  of 
Washington  as  the  headquarters  of  the  Con- 
federacy and  the  prevention  of  Lincoln's  in- 
auguration. Miss  Dix  would  never  allow  herself 
to  be  praised  for  this  act  nor  would  she  accept 
the  public  demonstration  for  her  services  as 
superintendent  of  war  nurses  which  Mr.  Stanton 
wished  to  give  her  at  the  close  of  the  war. 
Yet,  now  that  she  can  no  longer  object,  it 
seems  a  great  pity  that  her  unique  services  to 
humanity  should  not  be  adequately  recognized. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  231 

Let  Congress  put  through  with  a  rush  that 
bill  to  appropriate  $10,000  for  a  memorial  to 
her  with  which  they  have  been  dallying  for 
years ! 

Massachusetts  was  exceedingly  fortunate  in 
having  as  governor,  when  the  war  broke  out,  a 
man  of  the  calibre  of  John  A.  Andrew.  Com- 
mitted heart  and  soul  to  the  anti-slavery  cause 
Andrew  was  yet  keen  for  the  preservation  of 
the  Union,  —  and  he  strongly  believed  in  the 
potentiality  of  the  negro  as  a  soldier.  Through 
him  it  was  that  the  Fifty-fourth  Massachusetts 
Infantry,  colored,  of  which  Robert  Gould  Shaw 
was  colonel,  came  into  being.  Not  easily  did 
he  secure  the  consent  of  the  War  Department 
to  raise  such  a  regiment  and  when  he  had  got 
it  he  was  a  little  at  a  loss  where  to  turn  for  a 
commander.  Then  he  lighted  on  Robert  Gould 
Shaw,  who  at  the  time  was  an  officer  in  the 
Second  Massachusetts  Infantry.  At  first  the 
young  man  refused  the  command,  doubting 
his  own  capacity.  But  after  he  had  been 
assured  by  his  superior  officer  of  his  entire 
fitness  for  the  task  he  telegraphed  Governor 
Andrew  his  acceptance  of  the  offer  and  wrote 
to  his  mother,  "  I  feel  convinced  I  shall  never 
regret  having  taken  this  step,  as  far  as  I  my- 
self am  concerned,  for  while  I  was  undecided 
I  felt  ashamed  of  myself,  as  if  I  were  cowardly." 

The  task  of  training  this  colored  regiment  was 


232  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

taken  up  by  Colonel  Shaw  in  February,  1863,  and 
in  three  months  his  men  were  ready  for  service. 
On  May  second  he  was  married  to  Miss  Anna 
Haggerty  and  on  May  twenty-eighth  the  Fifty- 
fourth  broke  camp  and  came  to  Boston  to  take 
the  steamer  for  South  Carolina.  Shaw  was 
only  twenty-six  at  this  time,  a  handsome,  well- 
made  man  with  a  fine  complexion,  blue  eyes  and 
golden  hair.  He  must  have  been  a  striking 
figure  as  he  marched  with  his  black  men  and 
his  white  officers,  —  among  them  Norwood  1 
and  Edward  Hallowell,  to  salute  Governor 
Andrew,  standing  on  the  State  House  steps 
directly  opposite  the  present  site  of  the  beautiful 
St.  Gaudens  monument,  which  was  erected 
to  Shaw's  memory  by  his  friends  in  1897.  "  I 
know  not,"  said  Governor  Andrew  as  he  handed 
the  colors  to  the  Fifty -fourth,  "  when,  in  all 
human  history,  to  any  thousand  men  in  arms 
has  there  been  given  a  work,  so  proud,  so 
precious,  so  full  of  hope  and  glory,  as  the  work 
committed  to  you." 

Shaw  was  immensely  proud  of  his  men  and 
exceedingly  anxious  to  "  get  them,"  as  he  wrote, 
"  alongside  of  white  troops  and  into  a  good 
fight  if  there  is  to  be  one."  When  the  chance 
came  to  lead  the  attack  on  Fort  Wagner,  — 
July    18,    1863,  —  he   seized   it   eagerly.      But 

1  To  whom  I  am  indebted  for  interesting  and  valuable  material 
about  Col.  Shaw. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  233 

almost  immediately  he  fell  dead  on  the  parapet, 
in  the  midst  of  a  terribly  fierce  fire  in  which  no 
less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty-five  of  his 
black  soldiers  were  killed  or  wounded  with 
him! 

Colonel  Hallowell  has  written  very  beautifully 
of  the  qualities  of  this  man  under  whom  he 
was  proud  to  serve.  "  His  clean-cut  face, 
quick,  decided  step  and  singular  charm  of 
manner,  full  of  grace  and  virtue,  bespoke  the 
hero.  The  immortal  charge  of  his  black  regi- 
ment reads  like  a  page  of  the  Iliad  or  a  story 
from  Plutarch.  I  have  always  thought  that 
in  the  great  war  with  the  slave  power  the  figure 
that  stands  out  in  boldest  relief  is  that  of 
Colonel  Shaw.  There  were  many  others  as 
brave  and  devoted  as  he,  —  the  humblest 
private  who  sleeps  in  yonder  cemetery  or  fills 
an  unknown  grave  in  the  South  is  as  much 
entitled  to  our  gratitude,  —  but  to  no  others 
was  given  an  equal  opportunity.  By  the 
earnestness  of  his  convictions,  the  unselfishness 
of  his  character,  his  championship  of  an  en- 
slaved race,  and  the  manner  of  his  death,  all 
the  conditions  are  given  to  make  Shaw  the  best 
historical  exponent  of  the  underlying  cause,  the 
real  meaning  of  the  war.  He  was  the  fair  type 
of  all  that  was  brave,  generous,  beautiful  and 
of  all  that  was  best  worth  fighting  for  in  the 
war  of  the  slaveholders'  Rebellion." 


234  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Yet  when  he  died  in  the  prime  of  his  beautiful 
young  manhood  his  body  was  stripped  of  all 
but  underclothing,  exposed  for  a  time  on  the 
fort  and  finally  buried  in  a  trench  with  the 
negroes!  Robert  Gould  Shaw  of  Boston  was 
the  only  officer  buried  with  the  colored  troops. 
Not  that  being  side  by  side,  in  death  as  in  life, 
with  the  men  he  had  loved  and  trusted  could 
have  given  Shaw  anything  but  joy!.  It  is  for- 
tius reason  that  I  like  especially  the  wonderful 
St.  Gaudens  monument  in  which  he  and  his 
negro  followers  make  up  an  impressive  and 
artistic  unit.  Each  year  on  Memorial  day  the 
Robert  Bell  post  of  Grand  Army  men,  all  of 
whom  are  colored,  hang  wreaths  of  immortelles 
on  the  Shaw  Memorial  and  it  seems  to  me  a 
particularly  happy  thing  that  they  must  thus 
honor  at  one  and  the  same  time  their  black 
brethren  and  the  white  hero  who  was  their 
leader. 

"  I  want  to  fling  my  leaf  on  dear  Shaw's 
grave,"  wrote  Lowell  to  Fields  when  preparing 
the  poem  "  Memoriae  Positum  "  in  which  the 
brave  youth  is  so  stirringly  sung.  Then  he 
added,  "  I  want  the  poem  to  be  a  little  monu- 
mental. "    It  is  that.    Especially  the  verse: 

"  Brave,  good  and  true, 
I  see  him  stand  before  me  now, 
And  read  again  on  that  young  brow, 
Where  every  hope  was  new, 


o  ECJ 


S  oo 
O  =0 
V-    o 


! 

wl 

'^SST^jM-  ■■          HS? 

^^         *^*          /«3 

a    jo 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  235 

How  sweet  were  life!    Yet,  by  the  mouth  firm-set, 
And  look  made  up  for  Duty's  utmost  debt, 

I  could  divine  he  knew 
That  death  within  the  sulphurous  hostile  lines, 
In  the  mere  wreck  of  nobly-pitched  designs, 

Plucks  hearts-ease,  and  not  rue." 

The  Fifty-fifth  infantry  and  the  Fifth  Cavalry 
were  other  Massachusetts  regiments  made  up 
of  black  men,  while  all  the  soldiers  in  the  black 
regiment  of  which  Thomas  Wentworth  Hig- 
ginson  of  Cambridge  was  chosen  colonel  had 
been  slaves.  It  was  in  this  connection  that  the 
following  "  nonsense  verse  "  began  to  be  cir- 
culated in  Boston: 

"  There  was  a  young  curate  of  Worcester 
Who  could  have  a  command  if  he'd  choose  ter; 

But  he  said  each  recruit 

Must  be  blacker  than  soot 
Or  else  he'd  go  preach  where  he  used  ter." 

Higginson  denies  that  this  verse  is  a  literal 
statement  of  the  facts;  but  it  is  significant 
that  the  only  title  to  which  he  clings,  after 
a  full  and  remarkably  varied  life,  is  that  of 
colonel  of  the  First  South  Carolina  Volunteers. 

Through  the  suffering  and  the  sacrifice  en- 
tailed upon  all  classes  by  the  Civil  War  the  old 
differences  between  parties  and  clans  in  Boston 
were  gradually  forgotten.  Much  of  the  credit 
for  this  was  due  to  John  Albion  Andrew,  a 
man  of  imperturbable  sweetness  of  temper,  who, 


236  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

though  just  to  all  his  opponents,  was  yet  capable 
of  immensely  effective  service  in  the  cause  he 
believed  to  be  right. 

Andrew  was  one  of  those  who  believed  that 
"John  Brown  himself. was  right."  He  stated 
very  clearly,  in  1859,  that  he  sympathized  with 
the  man  and  sympathized  with  the  idea  because 
he  sympathized  with  and  believed  in  the  Eternal 
Right.  He  made  this  declaration  at  a  time  that 
it  took  great  courage  to  do  so  and  he  never 
retracted.  Yet,  the  next  year,  he  was  chosen 
to  be  governor  by  a  popular  vote  larger  than 
had  been  received  by  any  of  his  predecessors. 
Massachusetts'  heart  appears  to  have  been  in 
the  right  place  after  all!  During  the  long  and 
difficult  interval  when  every  governor  was  a 
war-minister  John  A.  Andrew  was  of  the 
greatest  service  to  Lincoln.  In  many  ways, 
indeed,  his  mind  and  that  of  the  President 
worked  alike.  And,  like  Lincoln,  he  was  always 
accessible,  always  gentle,  kind  and  just.  There 
is  a  story  that,  on  one  of  the  days  when  the 
pressure  of  details  and  decisions  was  simply 
tremendous  he  gave  patient  audience,  at  the 
State  House,  to  a  man  who  was  setting  forth  the 
virtues  of  a  patent  knapsack  and  that  he  ended 
by  having  the  bag  packed  and  buckled  on  over 
his  own  shoulders  that  he  might  decide  intelli- 
gently whether  it  would  really  be  a  good  substi- 
tute for  the  regulation  knapsack  of  the  army. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  237 

For  five  years  John  A.  Andrew  worked  early 
and  late  as  Massachusetts'  chief  executive, 
tasting,  in  that  time,  more  cares  and  sorrows, 
hopes  and  joys  and  labors  than  most  men 
would  in  four  score  years  of  ordinary  life.  He 
did  not  long  survive  the  great  strain  of  this 
period;  it  has  been  well  said  "  no  soldier 
struck  by  a  rebel  bullet  on  the  battle-field 
died  more  truly  a  victim  to  the  national  cause 
than  John  A.  Andrew."  1  So  his  life,  also,  must 
be  counted  among  those  offered  up  in  Boston 
on  the  altar  of  "  the  irrepressible  conflict." 

1  By  Albert  G.  Brown,  Jr.,  in  his  Sketch  of  the  Official  Life  of 
John  A.  Andrew. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   OLD   BOSTON   THEATRES   AND    THEIR    STARS 

WRITING  in  April,  1831,  the  Boston 
correspondent  of  the  New  York  Mir- 
ror —  whose  lamentations  over  the 
Puritan  city's  paucity  of  histrionic  attractions 
have  been  referred  to  in  an  earlier  chapter  — 
observes  plaintively,  "  There  is  now  but  one 
theatre  open."  That  theatre  was  the  Tremont, 
on  the  site  of  the  present  Tremont  Temple, 
and  it  had  now  been  making  its  bid  for  public 
patronage  for  nearly  two  years,  disparaging 
in  every  possible  way,  the  while,  the  Federal 
Street  theatre,  its  rival.  In  1830  the  latter 
was  forced  to  capitulate.  It  then  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  owners  of  the  Tremont,  who 
kept  it  closed,  except  for  a  brief  season,  until 
1835. 

The  performances  at  the  Tremont  began  at 
seven  o'clock  and  the  best  seats  cost  only  one 
dollar.  Yet  several  of  the  greatest  artists  of  the 
nineteenth  century  made  their  appearance  here, 
chief  among  them  being  Edwin  Forrest,  who 
here  played  "  Hamlet  "  for  the  first  time  in 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  239 

Boston  on  November  15,  1828.  Forrest  was 
then  only  twenty-two  (he  had  been  born  in 
Philadelphia  March  9,  1806)  and  he  looked  as 
well  as  acted  the  young  Prince  of  Denmark. 
Moreover,  he  had  not  yet  developed  that 
brusqueness  of  manner  under  which  he  elected, 
in  later  years,  to  cloak  what  seems  to  have 
been  a  thoroughly  kind  heart  and  a  real  love 
of  humanity.  It  was  at  the  Tremont  Theatre 
in  1828,  also,  that  John  Gibbs  Gilbert,  a  resident 
of  Boston's  North  End,  made  his  debut.  J.  B. 
Booth  was  at  this  time  manager  and  one  night, 
when  he  was  in  the  bill,  there  was  enacted  a 
sad  scene  which  serves  amply  to  establish  the 
contention  of  those  who  claim  that  his  son, 
who  shot  Lincoln,  inherited  insanity.  Upon 
his  first  entrance  on  the  stage,  for  the  after-piece 
in  which  a  comic  part  had  been  assigned  him, 
it  was  observed  that  he  was  faltering  in  his 
delivery  and  that  jumbled  scraps  from  other 
plays  were  finding  their  way  into  the  dialogue. 
Yet  he  managed  somehow  to  get  through  two 
acts.  In  the  early  part  of  the  third  act,  he 
suddenly  dropped  all  pretense  of  carrying  his 
part  and  fell  into  a  colloquial  chat  with  the 
King  of  Naples  in  the  play.  For  a  moment 
there  was  silence.  Then,  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  regain  his  self-control,  the  actor  turned 
to  the  audience  and  said,  "  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, I  really  don't  know  this  part.     I  studied 


240  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

it  only  once  before  and  against  my  inclination. 
I  will  read  the  part  and  the  play  shall  go  on. 
By  your  leave  the  play  shall  go  on  and  Mr. 
Wilson  shall  read  the  part  for  me."  Hisses 
greeted  this  suggestion.  Meanwhile  Booth, 
with  a  silly  grin,  which  soon  broke  into  a  mirth- 
less laugh,  was  being  led  into  the  wings,  by  a 
friend  in  the  company,  muttering  as  he  went, 
"  I  can't  read,  —  I  am  a  charity  boy;  —  I  can't 
read.  Take  me  to  the  Lunatic  Hospital."  In 
later  years  Booth  appeared  several  times  on 
the  Boston  stage,  having,  to  all  appearances, 
recovered  entirely  from  this  attack  of  insanity. 

In  January,  1831,  the  celebrated  Master 
Burke,  announced  as  the  "  Irish  Roscius," 
played  an  engagement  of  more  than  a  month 
at  the  Tremont  to  houses  that  were  most 
unusual  for  that  time.  "  Balls  and  parties,  sleigh 
rides  and  social  gatherings  were  for  the  time 
dispensed  with,"  says  the  record,  "  and  the 
theatre  was  the  centre  of  the  fashionable  and 
literary  world  of  Boston.  Burke  opened  as 
"  Young  Norval "  but  he  played  also  Dr. 
Pangloss,  Shylock,  Richard  III,  Hamlet  and 
Romeo,  besides  several  parts  whose  names 
mean  nothing  to  us  of  today. 

One  very  curious  thing  about  the  early 
theatrical  history  of  Boston  is  the  seriousness 
with  which  the  public  took  the  private  pecca- 
dilloes   of    artists.      Theatrical    riots    were    of 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  241 

common  occurrence.  The  most  important  one, 
since  that  connected  with  the  appearance  of 
Edmund  Kean  at  the  Federal  Street  Theatre,1 
came  at  the  Tremont  in  1831  when  Mr.  J.  R. 
Anderson,  an  English  singer,  was  hissed  off 
the  stage  because  he  was  believed  to  have 
spoken  "  disrespectfully  of  the  American  peo- 
ple." In  those  days  this  was  an  unpardonable 
sin  and  poor  Anderson  and  his  managers  had 
a  hard  time  of  it  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
they  deluged  the  papers  with  letters  and  affi- 
davits asserting  that  he  "  never  did  it." 

The  spring  of  1833,  at  the  Tremont,  was 
marked  by  two  very  interesting  events,  a 
benefit  given  (April  3)  to  John  Howard  Payne 
by  the  citizens  of  Boston,  after  his  absence 
for  nearly  twenty  years  from  the  scene  of  his 
early  triumphs,  and  the  first  appearance  in 
Boston,  on  Tuesday,  April  16,  of  Miss  Fanny 
Kemble.  The  Payne  benefit  was  carried  out 
by  a  committee  of  citizens  appointed  at  a 
meeting  held  in  the  Tremont  House  and  the 
pieces  chosen  for  presentation  consisted  en- 
tirely of  selections  from  various  plays,  written 
by  him  whom  we  now  know  only  as  the  author 
of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  Whether  by  reason 
of  Miss  Kemble's  approaching  season,  or  be- 
cause the  plays  Payne  offered  were  all  familiar 
ones,  and  the  night  selected  was  on  the  eve  of 

1  See  Old  Boston  Days  and  Ways,  p.  456. 


242  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Fast  Day,  —  when  it  was  the  custom  for  Boston 
families  to  unite  in  social  gatherings,  —  whatever 
the  reason  may  have  been  the  fact  remains 
that  the  receipts  for  the  benefit  were  small. 
Yet  the  occasion  was  an  impressive  one.  Park 
Benjamin  wrote  for  it  a  poem  celebrating  the 
events  of  Payne's  varied  career  which  makes 
much  better  reading  than  most  "  efforts  "  of 
the  kind,  and  the  affair  appropriately  came 
to  a  close  with  the  rendering  of  "  Home,  Sweet 
Home  "  by  the  orchestra  followed  by  a  speech 
from  Payne  himself. 

The  season  of  Miss  Kemble  and  her  father 
was  a  pronounced  triumph,  the  wealth  and 
beauty  of  the  city  crowding  the  playhouse  night 
after  night  to  do  honor  to  this  lovely  woman 
and  charming  actress.  Though  the  Hamlet 
of  Charles  Kemble  was  much  approved,  it 
was  when  the  two  appeared  together  in  "  School 
For  Scandal  "  or  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  that 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  reached  its 
highest  pitch.  When  they  played  their  fall 
engagement  at  the  Tremont,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Thomas  Barry,  the  admirable  stage- 
manager  who  had  just  come  over  from  the 
Park  Theatre  in  New  York  to  direct  the  destinies 
of  Boston's  leading  theatre,  the  receipts  were 
very  large  for  that  time:  $11,671  in  eighteen 
nights.  Thomas  Barry  was  then  called  the 
best   stage-manager   in   America   and   he   con- 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  243 

tinued  to  deserve  the  title,  winning  and  holding 
universal  respect  not  only  among  the  members 
of  his  profession  but  also  with  the  general  public. 
His  first  move  after  coming  to  the  Tremont  was 
to  put  the  theatre  in  complete  repair  at  an 
expense  of  $5,000  which  came  out  of  his  own 
pocket.  Gas  was  then  introduced  into  the 
house  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  ladies, 
"  many  of  whom,"  we  read,  "  could  trace  a 
ruined  dress  to  a  visit  to  the  theatre,  owing 
to  the  dripping  of  the  oil  from  the  lamps." 

Charles  H.  Eaton,  a  Boston  boy  who  became 
"  the  most  capable,  scholarly  and  polished 
American  actor  of  his  time,"  his  untimely  and 
tragic  death  (by  a  fall  down  a  spiral  staircase) 
bringing  to  a  sad  end  what  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  a  very  brilliant  career,  played  at 
the  Tremont  this  same  year.  Then  (in  1833) 
came  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph  Wood,  whose  appear- 
ance here  in  opera  created  almost  as  great  an 
excitement  as  the  coming  of  Jenny  Lind.  To 
us  the  Woods  are  interesting  chiefly  because  it 
was  with  them  that  Charlotte  Cushman, 
America's  greatest  tragic  actress  and  the  only 
Boston  woman  to  attain  international  fame 
on  the  stage,  made  her  debut.  In  those  days 
Charlotte  thought  herself  destined  to  be  a 
great  singer.  It  is  interesting  to  note  in  passing 
that  at  this  period  she  sang  Lucy  Bertram  at 
the  Tremont  Theatre  in  a  musical  version  of 


244  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  play  which  was  afterwards  to  afford  her 
her  master-role. 

The  great  event  in  the  history  of  the  Tremont 
Theatre  was  its  connection  with  Fanny  Ellsler, 
the  first  theatrical  celebrity  of  French  birth 
ever  to  win  the  plaudits  of  conservative  Bos- 
tonians.  She  made  her  initial  appearance  in 
Boston  on  the  evening  of  September  7,  1840, 
and,  almost  immediately,  became  the  talk  of  the 
town.  Even  Emerson,  who  with  Margaret 
Fuller  had  gone  to  witness  this  unusual  attrac- 
tion, seems  to  have  been  dazzled  by  the  grace 
and  charm  of  the  lovely  Fanny,  for,  as  she  was 
executing  one  of  her  inimitable  pirouettes, 
balancing  her  supple  body  on  the  toe  of  her 
left  foot  while  she  extended  her  right  one  "  to 
a  dangerous  not  to  say  questionable  height 
into  space,"  he  replied  to  Margaret's  ecstatic 
whisper,  "  Ralph,  this  is  poetry!"  with  a 
fervent,  "  Margaret,  it  is  religion  1 "  The  press 
notices  of  the  time  almost  persuade  one  to 
accept  these  transcendental  testimonies.  "  All 
that  we  had  imagined,"  says  one  critic,  "  of 
poetry,  of  music,  of  sculpture,  of  refinement, 
elegance  and  beauty,  were  realized.  The 
colors  of  the  rainbow,  the  delicacy  of  the 
flowers,  the  purity  of  the  crystal  waters,  have 
nothing  more  radiant,  exquisite  or  transparent 
than  the  gossamer  Boatings  of  this  glorious 
creature."    If  the  following  categorical  descrip- 


ft 

ai 

<] 

to   20 

■* 

ft 

CO 

O 

§  .2 

as 

"■S   © 

CO 

PL. 

o 

o 

IN  OLD  BOSTON  245 

tion1  of  Miss  Ellsler's  charms  be  just,  she 
must  certainly  have  been  "  glorious:  " 

"  La  Fanny  is  tall,  beautifully  formed,  with 
limbs  that  resemble  those  of  the  hunting  Diana, 
combining  strength  with  the  most  delicate  and 
graceful  style;  her  small  and  classically  shaped 
head  is  placed  on  her  shoulders  in  a  singularly 
elegant  manner;  the  pure  fairness  of  her  skin 
requires  no  artificial  whiteness,  while  her  eyes 
beam  with  a  species  of  playful  malice,  well 
suited  to  the  half-ironical  expression  at  times 
visible  in  the  corners  of  her  finely  curved  lips; 
her  rich  glossy  hair  of  bright  chestnut  hue  is 
usually  braided  over  a  forehead  formed  to  wear 
with  equal  grace  and  dignity  the  diadem  of  a 
queen  or  the  floral  wreath  of  a  nymph." 

No  wonder  our  ordinarily  staid  citizens  walked 
before  the  Tremont  House  for  hours  in  hopes 
that  the  divinity  would  show  herself  at  the 
window!  Articles  of  use  and  ornament,  from 
bread  and  bootjacks  to  cuffs  and  brass  buttons 
were  named  in  her  honor;  and  so  great  was  her 
vogue  that  her  help  was  gladly  accepted  by 
"  society "  in  raising  money  for  the  granite 
shaft  on  Bunker  Hill,  then  nearing  completion. 
The  wags  of  the  day  declared  that  Fanny  had 
kicked  the  cap  on  the  Monument.  During  her 
thirteen  nights  in  Boston  she  earned  $15,000 
by  her  dancing! 

1  In  Beauties  of  the  Opera  and  Ballet. 


246  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

A  keen  rival  of  the  Tremont  Theatre  at  this 
time  was  the  National,  brought  into  being  by 
the  same  disgruntled  actor,  William  Pelby, 
who  had  caused  the  Tremont  to  be  started. 
For  four  years  he  called  his  venture,  at  the  corner 
of  Portland  and  Travers  Streets,  the  Warren, 
but,  in  1836,  he  reconstructed  its  interior  and 
announced  that  its  name  would  henceforth  be 
the  National.  Here  it  was  that  Jean  Daven- 
port made  in  1838  the  success  which  induced 
her  father  to  lease  the  Lion  Theatre,  on  the 
site  of  the  present  Bijou,  for  her.  Miss  Daven- 
port was  at  this  time  stated  to  be  only  "  eleven 
years  of  age  "  and  was  justly  regarded  as  an 
infant  phenomenon,  equal  to  Master  Betty  in 
the  best  days  of  that  prodigy  and  surpassing 
the  wonderful  Burke  to  whom  allusion  has 
already  been  made.  Why  anyone  should  wish 
to  see  a  mere  child  playing  Richard  and  Shylock 
I  cannot  see,  but  that  the  desire  to  be  thus 
entertained  was  keen  there  seems  no  doubt. 
Her  ten  performances  in  as  many  parts  netted 
nearly  sixteen  hundred  dollars  for  her  fond 
father!  The  National  burned  in  1852  but  was 
promptly  rebuilt  and  for  many  years  continued 
to  draw  large  audiences.  Its  pieces  were  always 
well  mounted  and  its  prices  reasonable. 

The  Howard  Athenaeum,  once  characterized  1 
as  an  edifice  "  which  has  had  an  experience  of 

1  By  Henry  Austin  Clapp. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  247 

more  variety  than  any  other  piece  of  masonry 
in  the  city  of  Boston,"  dates  from  1845  and  is 
still  given  over  to  amusement  purposes.  This 
place  was  built  to  be  a  temple  of  the  Miller- 
ites,  whose  prophet,  the  venerable  Father 
Miller,    predicted    with    such     persuasiveness, 

"  The  end  of  the  world  will  surely  be 
In  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Forty-three." 

that  large  numbers  of  his  followers  sold  all  their 
possessions  preparatory  to  immediate  departure 
for  a  land  more  blessed.  When  the  day  set 
apart  for  the  closing  up  of  all  earthly  affairs  had 
however  passed  with  no  sign  of  being  the  Last 
Day  Father  Miller  reviewed  his  calculations 
and  discovered  that  he  had  been  wrong  in  his 
arithmetic  to  the  extent  of  a  few  thousand 
years.  Whereupon  the  Millerites  reluctantly 
consented  to  lease  their  former  gathering-place 
to  a  group  of  men  desirous  of  establishing 
another  theatre  in  Boston.  At  the  time  of  its 
opening  (October  13,  1845)  this  new  theatre 
had  a  regular  stock  company,  which  included 
James  H.  Hackett,  afterwards  the  manager  of 
the  Howard.  One  feature  of  Hackett's  acting 
was  his  originality.  It  is  related  that,  on  a 
certain  occasion  when  he  had  been  vociferously 
applauded  for  his  work  in  Nimrod  Wildfire,  a 
piece  that  concludes  with  a  dance  in  which  the 
star  kicks  over  a  table  spread  with  tea  things, 


248  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  gallery  gods  continued  their  applause  out 
of  all  limits.  Whereupon  Hackett  advanced 
to  the  footlights  and  said,  "  I  should  be  most 
happy  to  repeat  the  dance,  but  I  am  out  of 
breath,  and  what  is  worse,  the  manager  is  out 
of  cups  and  saucers!  " 

It  was  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum  on  its 
opening  night  under  Hackett's  management 
(October  5,  1846)  in  a  new  building  which 
replaced  the  wooden  structure  of  the  Millerites, 
that  William  Warren,  whom  we  of  today  inevi- 
tably connect  with  the  Boston  Museum,  made 
his  first  appearance  in  this  city  as  Sir  Lucius 
O'Trigger  in  "  The  Rivals."  The  crowning 
theatrical  achievement  of  that  season  in  this 
house  was,  however,  the  dancing  of  the  Vien- 
noise  Children;  in  opera  the  year  is  marked 
by  the  fact  that  here,  for  the  first  time  in  Boston, 
genuine  Italian  opera  was  presented,  the  vehicle 
being  Verdi's  "  Ernani  "  and  the  stars  Tedesco 
and  Perilli.  Before  the  theatre  ceased,  in  1868, 
to  be  the  home  of  "  the  legitimate  "  it  saw  many 
opera  seasons  worthy  of  note,  not  the  least  of 
these  being  one  in  the  spring  of  1853  of  which 
Madame  Sontag  was  the  star.  It  also  had  many 
distinguished  managers,  among  them  E.  L. 
Davenport,  John  Gibbs  Gilbert,  Lester  Wallack 
the  elder,  Sothern  the  elder,  Isaac  B.  Rich  and 
John  Stetson.  Joseph  Jefferson  was  a  member 
of  the  company  at  this  house  during  the  season 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  249 

of  1853-54.  Clever  advertisements  have  always 
been  a  feature  here  and,  even  today,  when  the 
talent  to  be  exploited  is  by  no  means  of  a  high 
order,  the  emanations  from  the  press  room  of  the 
"  Old  Howard  "  are  gems  of  their  kind.  In 
1845  it  was  announced  by  a  soulful  press  agent: 

"  As  Rome  points  proudly  to  her  Coliseum, 
So  Boston  treats  her  Howard  Athenaeum." 

Someone  has  observed  that  this  deference  on 
Boston's  part  may  have  arisen  from  the  fact 
that  the  Howard  was  the  first  Boston  theatre 
to  have  cushioned  seats. 

The  first  Boston  theatre  to  have  a  "  nigger 
heaven  "  was  the  Tremont.  An  early  program 
stated  that  the  central  gallery,  to  which  the 
admission  was  fifty  cents,  was  "  reserved  for 
people  of  color."  It  would  be  interesting  to 
know  how  largely  these  people  took  advantage 
of  the  special  provision  made  for  them.  Lyman 
Beecher  hated  with  a  godly  hatred  this  Tremont 
Theatre  and  he  once  boasted  that  he  "  would 
yet  preach  "  in  the  building  then  desecrated 
by  playhouse  use.  He  lived  to  fulfil  the  boast; 
for  following  a  religious  revival  of  unusual 
fervor,  it  was  decided  to  sell  the  theatre  to 
Rev.  Mr.  Colver's  Baptist  Society.  The  bitter 
resentment  cherished  by  many  of  the  clergy 
towards  the  theatres  in  Boston  can  hardly  be 
appreciated  in  these  days  when  it  is  so  generally 


250  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

felt  that  the  stage  at  its  best  is  bent  on  the 
same  ideals  as  inspire  the  church.  Yet  Lyman 
Beecher  declared,  when  one  of  the  theatres 
in  the  city  was  burned  down,  that  "  another 
gateway  of  Hell  has  been  destroyed  by  the 
direct  intervention  of  divine  Providence! " 
After  the  Tremont  Theatre  had  been  modelled 
over  into  Tremont  Temple  it  was  opened  (in 
the  fall  of  1843)  with  the  hymn  "  Lord,  Let 
These  Ransomed  Walls  Rejoice." 

The  last  June  of  the  Tremont's  life  as  a 
theatre  was  none  the  less  a  gala  month.  The 
city  was  thronged  with  people  who  had  come 
to  town  to  be  present  at  the  ceremonies  incident 
to  the  completion  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument  — 
for  which  Webster  delivered  the  oration  —  and 
so  many  people  were  desirous  of  attending  the 
theatre  that,  for  the  first  time  in  history,  Boston 
had  a  playhouse  open  on  Saturday  evening.  A 
week  later,  the  last  performance  in  the  old 
house  was  held.  Ere  the  company  broke  up 
on  this  occasion  two  or  three  speeches  were 
made  by  actors  which,  to  my  mind,  compare  — 
to  Lyman  Beecher's  disadvantage  —  with  some 
of  that  divine's  discourses  on  the  subject  of 
the  drama.  Gilbert,  for  instance,  defended  feel- 
ingly his  profession.  There  were  defects, 
he  admitted,  in  the  drama,  but  they  could  be 
removed  by  judicious  management  so  that  the 
most   scrupulously  fastidious  should   feel   that 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  251 

the  theatre  was  a  good  institution  and  be  induced 
to  patronize  it. 

The  cue  in  all  this,  that  "  by  judicious  man- 
agement the  most  scrupulously  fastidious  might 
be  made  to  feel  the  theatre  a  good  institution 
and  so  to  patronize  it  "  was  promptly  taken 
up  by  a  very  clever  man,  Moses  Kimball.  Mr. 
Kimball  had  the  shrewdness  to  see  that  the 
Boston  public  could  be  made  to  take  very 
kindly  to  a  new  theatre  if  the  plan  were  broken 
to  them  gradually.  On  June  14,  1841,  he  had 
opened  his  Boston  Museum  and  Gallery  of  Fine 
Arts  in  a  building  on  the  site  where  the  Horti- 
cultural Hall  stood  later  and  the  Paddock 
Building  stands  now,  and  to  furnish  his  Museum 
had  purchased  generously  from  the  collection 
which  had  been  in  the  possession  of  the  New 
England  Museum.  One  of  his  choice  acquisi- 
tions was  the  famous  so-called  historical  paint- 
ing by  Rembrandt  Peale,  representing  the 
Roman  Daughter  giving  sustenance  to  her 
father  in  prison,  a  startling  canvas  which 
until  the  demolition  of  the  Old  Boston  Mu- 
seum greeted  all  who  were  making  their  exit 
down  the  long  flight  of  steps  that  led  out  to 
the  street. 

In  order  to  understand  what  a  unique  oppor- 
tunity Mr.  Kimball  had  to  develop  a  successful 
theatre  from  this  unobjectionable  beginning  it 
should  be  recalled  that  theatricals  in  Boston 


252  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

were  just  then  at  very  low  ebb.  The  Boston 
Theatre  on  Federal  Street  was  closed,  the 
National  Theatre  was  making  an  appeal  which 
was  chiefly  local,  the  Howard  had  not  yet  been 
started  and  the  Tremont  Theatre  was  expiring. 
Mr.  Kimball's  problem,  then,  was  to  move 
so  cautiously  as  to  make  no  enemies,  trusting 
to  Providence  that,  in  good  time,  he  should 
make  many  friends.  He  opened  his  institution 
with  a  "  grand  concert  "  and  for  two  years 
nothing  more  exciting  than  dioramas  and  pano- 
ramas was  offered,  —  in  addition  to  music 
and  the  curiosities. 

But,  no  sooner  had  the  Tremont  closed  its 
doors  than  Mr.  Kimball  made  arrangements 
to  give  regular  dramatic  performances  in  his 
Museum  and  several  members  of  the  Tremont 
Company  were  engaged  to  float  the  venture. 
Miss  Adelaide  Phillips,  then  a  child  of  ten, 
was  among  the  number,  and  for  several  years 
during  her  early  connection  with  the  Museum 
she  was  wont  to  drive  her  hoop  back  and  forth 
to  rehearsals  from  her  parents'  home  on  Tremont 
Street. 

The  price  of  admission  during  all  the  Bromfield 
Street  period  of  the  Museum's  history  was  25 
cents,  "  children  under  twelve  years  of  age 
half  price."  Great  emphasis  was  laid  upon  the 
educational  value  of  the  curiosities  and  such 
shows  as  were  produced  were  represented  to 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  253 

be  of  the  strictly  "  moral  "  variety.  On  the  bills 
for  1844  a  prize  of  $100  was  offered  by  the 
management  "  for  the  best  moral  domestic 
drama  adapted  to  the  stock  company  of  the 
Museum."  To  win  this  prize  there  was  sent 
in  a  play  called  "  The  Drunkard  "  the  author- 
ship of  which  has  never  been  accurately  known, 
but  which  John  Bouve  Clapp  —  who  has  made 
a  special  study  of  the  Museum's  history  to 
which  I  am  indebted  for  many  of  these  facts  — 
attributes  to  Rev.  John  Pierpont,  then  pastor 
of  the  Hollis  Street  Church.  Pierpont  was  an 
ardent  worker  in  the  movement  for  temperance 
reform,  and  he  was  wont  to  thunder  from  his 
pulpit,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  against  those 
who  had  built  up  fortunes  by  liquor  manu- 
facture. This  despite  the  fact  that  three  of 
the  pillars  of  his  church  were  distillers  and 
stored  their  rum  in  the  basement  of  the  church  — 
thus  giving  point  to  the  epigram: 

"  Above  the  spirit  Divine, 
Below  the  spirits  of  Wine." 

Perhaps  it  was  in  the  belief  that  he  could 
preach  temperance  to  a  larger  audience  through 
the  theatre  than  through  the  church  that  Mr. 
Pierpont  turned  his  attention  to  the  writing  of  a 
play.  One  of  the  parts  in  this  highly  moral 
"  Drunkard  "  was  taken,  it  is  interesting  to 
know,  by  Miss  Caroline  Fox,  who  afterwards 


254 


ROMANTIC  DAYS 


became  famous,  the  world  over,  as  the  original 
Topsy. 

So  kindly  had  the  Boston  public  taken  to 
theatre-going  at  a  "  Museum  "  that  Mr.  Kim- 
ball now  began  to  arrange  for  ampler  quarters. 
Hammatt  Billings  and  J.  E.  Billings  were  com- 
missioned to  make  plans  for  an  adequate 
auditorium  and  on  November  6,  1846,  what  we 
of  today  know  as  "  the  Old  Boston  Museum  " 
was  opened.  The  first  performance  began 
with  the  playing  of  "  America  "  by  the  orchestra 
and  in  the  course  of  the  evening  Adelaide 
Phillips  danced. 

When  the  new  Museum  opened  its  doors 
the  curios  were  displayed  in  the  pillared  prom- 
enade where  the  pictures  hung  later.  Not 
until  the  season  of  1850-51  was  the  "  wax 
statuary  hall  100  feet  in  length  "  fitted  up  as 
their  home  and  "  The  Murder  of  Miss  McCrea," 
the  "  Scene  in  the  Cabin  of  a  Vessel  Captured 
by  Pirates,"  the  "  Three  Stages  of  Intemper- 
ance "  and  "  The  Last  Supper "  there  "  ex- 
hibited without  extra  charge  to  all  who  desired 
to  view  them."  The  "  Feejee  Mermaid," 
alluded  to  by  Barnum  in  his  Autobiography  was 
also  duly  here.  Mr.  Kimball  was  by  no  means 
stingy  with  his  treasures,  however,  and  when 
the  Cochituate  water  was  let  on  in  Boston  (1848) 
two  of  the  Museum's  huge  stuffed  elephants 
were  lent  to  be  in  the  procession. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  255 

In  that  charming  book,  Yesterdays  With 
Actors,1  there  is  a  Hawthornesque  passage 
descriptive  of  the  quaint  old  gentleman  who  was 
long  the  care-taker  and  preserver  of  the  wax 
figures.  When  Mrs.  Winslow,  the  new  recruit 
to  the  company,  first  met  him  (about  1860) 
he  conducted  her  to  the  upper  gallery  she  says, 
"  w7ith  a  confiding  yet  startled  air  which  was 
almost  furtive  and  suggested  fear  and  suspicion. 
I  could  not  but  believe  that,  engrossed  with 
his  dumb  companions,  when  he  sought  human 
fellowship,  the  eyes  that  moved,  the  lips  that 
spoke  half  terrified  him!  However,  being  a 
silent  person,  I  was  taken  the  rounds,  and  every 
perfection  pointed  out  to  me.  Was  I  not 
smitten  with  the  belief  that  Chang  and  Eng 
were  before  me?  These  Siamese,  were  they  not 
real?  He  spoke  with  solemn  earnestness  of 
Miss  McCrea's  need  of  a  clean  gown.  She 
should  have  it  yet.  But  the  school  —  the 
school.  Look  at  it!  Every  face,  he  told  me, 
had  been  wiped,  every  collar  washed,  every 
shoe  brushed.  The  schoolmaster,  was  I  not 
deceived  by  him?  The  scholar  with  the  dunce's 
cap?  Wax?  No!  it  was  life!  .  .  .  The  ghastly 
tragedy  of  the  drunkard's  history,  the  verisimili- 
tude of  the  sealing  wax  blood  of  poor  Miss 
McCrea,  stark  staring  Santa  Anna,  were  always 
things  terrible  to  me,  but  as  I  think  now  of  the 

1  Written  by  Mrs.  Erving  Winslow,  nee  Kate  Reignolds. 


256 


ROMANTIC  DAYS 


pale  moonlight  falling  on  those  awful  spectres 
[this  book  was  written  before  the  Museum  was 
demolished]  I  have  an  eerie  feeling  that  the 
little  old  man,  though  he  died  some  time  since, 
still  creeps  about  the  gallery,  fulfilling  his 
faithful  task." 

The  great  event  of  the  season  1847-1848  at 
the  Museum  was  the  first  appearance  at  this 
house  of  William  Warren,  who  (with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  year)  was  exclusively  associated  with 
this  playhouse  for  the  next  thirty-five  seasons. 
His  initial  appearance  was  in  Pocock's  old 
comedy,  "  Sweethearts  and  Wives,"  and  he 
acted  for  the  last  time,  May  12,  1883,  playing 
Old  Eccles  in  "  Caste."  His  career  may  thus 
be  said  to  cover  the  history  of  the  Museum 
throughout  the  entire  period  of  its  palmy 
days.  Mr.  Warren  was  the  son  of  an  English 
player  and  of  an  American  lady  of  acting 
family.  He  got  his  training  through  the  old 
stock  company  system  and  of  him  it  might 
peculiarly  be  said  that  in  his  time  he  "  played 
many  parts."  While  at  the  Museum,  alone, 
his  roles  numbered  over  575  and  the  per- 
formances to  his  credit  were  upwards  of  13,000. 
On  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  first  appearance 
in  Boston  he  was  given  a  testimonial  and  Vin- 
ton's portrait,  herewith  reproduced,  which  was 
painted  at  the  order  of  a  number  of  Bostonians, 
was  exhibited  in  the  lobby.     The  picture  now 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  257 

hangs  in  Boston's  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  a 
worthy  memorial  of  one  who  was  a  gifted  actor 
and  an  old  school  gentleman  of  the  finest  type. 

For  many  years  Mr.  Warren  was  a  most 
interesting  Boston  figure  as  he  took  his  daily 
walks  to  the  Museum  from  his  boarding  place 
kept  by  Miss  Fisher,  for  he  never  married. 
Henry  Austin  Clapp  has  declared  that  his 
manners  were  the  finest  he  ever  saw  in  a  man 
and  that  he  remembers  hearing  it  said  at  a 
time,  near  the  close  of  the  Great  War,  by  some 
men  who  were  native  here,  and  to  the  best 
Boston  manner  born,  that  "  Edward  Everett, 
A.  B.,  A.  M.,  LL.D.,  ex-Governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts, ex-United  States  Senator  from  Massa- 
chusetts, ex-President  of  Harvard  College,  ex- 
Minister  to  England,  litterateur,  orator,  states- 
man, was,  in  respect  of  distinction  of  manners, 
in  a  class  with  but  one  other  of  his  fellow  citi- 
zens: that  one  other  appearing  in  the  local 
directory  as  Warren,  William,  comedian,  boards 
SBulfinchPlace."1 

For  sixteen  years  the  stage-manager  and  lead- 
ing man  at  the  Museum  was  W.  H.  Smith.  He 
was  succeeded  in  the  stage  management  by 
Mr.  E.  F.  Keach,  a  dashing  actor  as  well  as  a 
capable  director.  Mrs.  Winslow  gives  us  an 
interesting  glimpse  into  the  green  room  and 
behind  the  scenes  when  Keach  was  at  the  helm : 

1  Reminiscences  of  a  Dramatic  Critic. 


258  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

"  We  entered  by  a  narrow  door  from  one  of 
the  galleries  which  gave  at  a  touch,  but  fell 
back  as  quickly  with  the  force  of  a  ponderous 
spring.  A  door-keeper,  seated  at  the  end  of  a 
narrow  aisle  some  three  feet  wide  between 
enormous  piles  of  dusty  canvas,  permitted  none 
to  pass  except  the  actual  employees  of  the 
theatre.  About  the  same  space  between  the 
inner  edge  of  the  scenery  standing  in  its  grooves 
and  the  masses  stacked  along  the  walls,  allowed 
a  scant  passage  down  the  side  of  the  stage. 
At  one  corner,  where  the  private  box  is  now 
was  a  property  room,  behind  that  the  manager's 
office. 

"  On  the  opposite  side,  a  small  space  of  per- 
haps six  feet  wide  at  one  end  tapering  down  to 
four  at  the  other  was  the  green  room,  its  furni- 
ture a  bench  about  the  wall,  a  cast  case,  a 
dictionary  and  a  mirror,  over  which  was  in- 
scribed ■  Trifles  make  Perfection.'  ...  A  hasty 
glance  at  the  '  call '  in  the  green  room  for  the 
coming  plays,  a  word  of  courteous  greeting 
for  our  fellow  actors,  the  last  conning  of  the 
part;  such  were  the  interludes  between  the 
appearances  on  the  stage;  and  a  more  workaday, 
matter  of  fact  place  it  would  be  hard  to  find." 

Yet  because  the  players  were  clever  men  and 
women  many  a  good  thing  flashed  out  in  that 
dingy  room.  William  Warren,  Mrs.  Winslow 
relates,   she   saw   one   night   surrounded   by   a 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  259 

bevy  of  girls  "  who  in  their  aesthetic  clinging 
gowns  and  admring  attitudes  could  not  but 
remind  me  of  the  maidens  in  Patience  grouped 
around  Bunthorn.  In  speaking  to  him  after- 
wards I  told  him  he  was  the  lion  of  the  night. 
'  Ah,'  said  Warren,  '  I  never  heard  of  but  one 
man  who  was  not  hurt  by  lionizing,  and  he  was 
a  Jew  by  the  name  of  Daniel.'  "  It  was  of 
Warren  that  the  great  Rachel  said  simply, 
"  He  is  one  of  us." 

One  of  Warren's  early  successes  at  the 
Museum  was  as  Mustapha  in  "  The  Forty 
Thieves,"  which,  with  "Aladdin,"  "Cinder- 
ella," "  Valentine  and  Orson,"  "  The  Enchanted 
Beauty,"  "  Blue  Beard  "  and  "  The  Children  of 
Cyprus  "  formed  the  series  of  "  grand  dramatic 
spectacles  "  which  served  to  make  friends  for 
Mr.  Kimball's  enterprise  because  parents  "  took 
the  children,"  —  just  as  we  all  do  now  when 
the  circus  is  in  town.  "  The  Children  of  Cy- 
prus "  is  especially  remembered  for  its  bird 
song  rendered  by  Adelaide  Phillips.  It  was  the 
young  artist's  work  in  this  part  which  first 
caused  Jenny  Lind  to  be  interested  in  her,  and 
to  help  her,  subsequently,  to  a  musical  educa- 
tion. 

The  naive  readiness  of  the  Bostonians  to 
take  the  new  theatre,  disguised  as  a  "  Museum," 
at  Mr.  Kimball's  shrewedly  calculated  valua- 
tion   is  nowhere  more  amusingly  shown  than 


260  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

in  the  various  handbooks  of  the  time.  In  the 
1856  edition  of  Boston  Sights  and  Strangers9 
Guide  we  find  unbounded  enthusiasm  over 
"  the  spacious  and  superb  building,  its  front 
adorned  by  elegant  balconies  and  rows  of  ground 
glass  globes  like  enormous  pearls  which  at 
night  are  luminous  with  gas.  Three  tiers  of 
elegantly  arched  windows  admit  light  into  the 
building,"  adds  the  writer,  "  and  we  reach  the 
interior  by  a  bold  flight  of  stairs." 

A  bold  flight  of  description  this!  Yet  even 
more  impressive  matter  follows,  for  we  are  told 
of  the  statuary  and  superb  works  of  art,  of  the 
curios  which  are  "  products  of  many  a  clime  " 
.  .  .  and  of  an  observatory  surmounting  all 
"  whence  splendid  panoramic  views  of  the  city 
and  harbor  and  its  islands  may  be  obtained." 
After  which  comes  the  editorial  assurance  that 
"  the  Museum  theatre  is  one  of  the  most 
beautifully  decorated,  best  constructed  and 
well  managed  theatres  in  the  United  States. 
The  visitor  there  has  no  rowdyism  to  fear  and 
nothing  ever  occurs  either  in  the  audience  por- 
tion or  on  the  stage  to  offend  the  most  fastidious. 
As  good  order  is  maintained  in  Mr.  Kimball's 
theatre  as  in  any  drawing  room  in  the  land." 

The  reserved  seat  plan  was  adopted  at  the 
Museum  in  1848,  slips  entitling  to  the  same 
being  partly  printed  and  partly  filled  out  by 
hand.    The  following  year  Edwin  Booth,  called 


GREEN   ROOM    OF    THE    BOSTON    MUSEUM. 
Page  258. 


Copyright,  1903,  by  N.  L.  Stebbins. 
FOYER   OF   THE    BOSTON    MUSEUM. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  261 

in  the  bills  Edwin  T.  Booth,  was  seen  here  for 
the  first  time  on  any  stage,  his  role  being  the 
small  one  of  Tressel  in  "  Richard  III  "  to  his 
father's  Gloster.  This  was  September  10, 1849, 
young  Booth  being  then  sixteen  years  old. 

Two  very  interesting  things  happened  at  the 
Museum  in  the  season  of  1852-53:  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  was  staged  and  Mrs.  Vincent 
joined  the  company.  The  dramatization  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  story  was  made  by  H.  J.  Conway, 
Frank  Whitman  played  Uncle  Tom,  W.  H. 
Smith  did  Drover  John,  J.  Davies  was  Simon 
Legree,  E.  F.  Keach  did  the  George  Harris, 
J.  A.  Smith  was  the  St.  Clare,  Mrs.  Wulf 
Fries  did  the  Eliza,  Mrs.  Thoman  was  Aunt 
Ophelia,  Helen  Western  was  the  Eva  and 
Miss  Gazzynski  acted  Topsy.  An  interpolated 
character  —  Penetrate  Partyside  —  who  created 
"  comic  relief  "  in  the  play  was  done  by  William 
Warren,  and  Mrs.  Vincent,  then  a  slim  and 
swift  young  woman,  acted  Cassy.  On  one 
memorable  evening  Mrs.  Stowe  and  her  sister, 
together  with  their  father,  Rev.  Lyman  Beecher, 
—  who  hated  the  theatre  generally,  —  attended 
the  performance. 

Mrs.  Vincent's  maiden  name  was  Mary  Ann 
Farley  and  she  was  born  in  Portsmouth,  Eng- 
land, September  18,  1818.  Her  father  was  a 
naval  officer  but  he  died  when  she  was  only 
two  and  her  mother's  decease  soon  afterward 


262  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

left  the  child  to  be  brought  up  and  cared  for 
by  an  aunt,  a  grandmother  and  an  old  servant. 
This  servant  married  a  man  who  lived  in  Gos- 
port  and  began  to  take  boarders,  among  them 
several  actors,  including  Charles  Wilson,  man- 
ager of  the  Theatre  at  Cowes,  and  his  wife. 
Little  Miss  Farley  used  to  go  to  have  tea  with 
them  at  the  theatre;  thus  her  stage  desires  were 
early  kindled.  She  made  her  debut  at  Cowes 
in  April,  1835,  in  "  The  Review,  or  the  Wags  of 
Windsor,"  by  George  Colman,  Jr.,  playing  with 
much  vim  and  vigor  the  part  of  a  chamber- 
maid. The  following  August,  when  only  sixteen, 
she  married  James  R.  Vincent,  a  comedian  many 
years  her  senior.  Her  Boston  debut,  as  has 
been  said,  was  at  the  National  Theatre  and  she 
had  been  in  the  company  there  six  years  when 
the  burning  of  the  playhouse  made  her  eligible 
for  an  engagement  at  the  Museum.  Here  her 
connection  was  continuous,  (with  the  exception 
of  the  seas6n  1861-62  when  she  supported 
Edwin  Forrest  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum) 
until  her  death  September  4,  1887.  In  1856 
she  married  John  Wilson  of  the  Museum  com 
pany,  but,  this  alliance  not  proving  a  happy 
one,  she  was  divorced  from  him  ten  years  later 
It  is  quite  properly  as  Mrs.  Vincent,  therefore, 
—  "  dear  old  Mrs.  Vincent,"  —  that  this  gifted 
woman  is  remembered  and  honored  in  Boston. 
Up  to  the  very  end  of  her  life  she  kept  happily 


; 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  263 

in  the  harness.  She  died,  September  4,  1887, 
at  her  home  112  Charles  Street;  on  the  pre- 
ceding Wednesday  she  had  played  Kezia  Beek- 
man  in  "  The  Dominie's  Daughter!  " 

Mrs.  Vincent's  kindness  to  animals  and  her 
generous  charities  were  famous  in  the  Boston 
of  a  quarter  century  ago.  On  one  occasion  when 
all  the  other  members  of  the  Museum  company 
were  assembled,  she  was  found  by  messengers, 
hastily  sent  out  in  quest  of  her,  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  crowd  at  the  corner  of  Tremont 
Row  and  Pemberton  Square,  haranguing  a 
teamster  who  was  driving  a  lame  horse.  "  Her 
fervent  denunciations,  pointed  by  her  umbrella," 
says  Kate  Reignolds  Winslow,1  "  were  scarcely 
to  be  interrupted  by  the  urgent  reminder  that  the 
stage  was  waiting.  As  she  was  dragged  away 
and  hurried  up  the  stairs  of  the  Museum,  we 
heard  her  panting  for  breath  and  brokenly 
exclaiming  in  anything  but  a  tone  of  penitence: 
*  Well,  I  don't  care  if  the  stage  is  waiting,  and 
I  don't  care  for  Mr.  Keach  nor  twenty  like  him. 
I  won't  see  a  brute  driving  a  horse  on  three  legs 
without  speaking  my  mind.'  " 

This  manager,  Mr.  E.  F.  Keach,  appears  to 
have  been  a  good  deal  of  a  martinet.  Yet  it  was 
undoubtedly  due  to  him  that  the  Boston 
Museum  developed  from  a  mere  stage  adjunct 
of  wax  figures  and  curiosities    (frequented  by 

1  In  Yesterdays  with  Actors. 


264  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

good  people  who  were  afraid  of  the  very  name, 
theatre)  to  a  first  rate  home  of  first  rate  drama. 
His  "  Rules  and  Regulations  "  concerning  the 
conduct  of  the  company,  while  in  the  Green 
Room,  were  quite  above  the  standard  in  other 
theatres.  They  made  it  clear  that  the  "  Green 
Room  is  provided  for  the  quiet  and  respectable 
assemblage  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
company,"  that  "  conversation  there  must  be 
carried  on  in  low  tones,"  and  that  "  smoking 
and  spirituous  liquors  would  not  be  allowed 
there  or  in  any  part  of  the  theatre  at  any 
time."  After  four  years  as  manager  Mr. 
Keach  was  succeeded  by  R.  M.  Field,  who  held 
the  place  until  the  stock  company  was  dis- 
continued in  1895. 

Mrs.  Winslow  (then  Kate  Reignolds)  was 
leading  woman  in  the  company  beginning  with 
the  first  season  under  Keach  (1860-61),  and  her 
vivid  account  of  acting  with  John  Wilkes 
Booth,  who  soon  came  to  play  an  engagement, 
leaves  one  in  no  doubt  that  this  man  was  very 
close  to  insanity  even  before  his  affliction  was 
recognized.  "  If  ever  there  was  an  irresponsible 
person,"  she  says,  "it  was  this  sad-faced, 
handsome,  passionate  boy.  As  an  actor  he 
had  more  of  the  native  fire  and  fury  of  his  great 
father  than  any  of  his  family  but  he  was  as 
undisciplined  on  the  stage  as  off.  When  he 
fought  it  was  no  stage  fight.    He  told  me  that 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  265 

he  generally  slept  smothered  in  steak  and 
oysters  to  cure  his  own  bruises  after  Richard 
the  Third,  because  he  necessarily  got  as  good 
as  he  gave,  —  in  fact  more,  for  though  an 
excellent  swordsman,  in  his  blind  passion  he 
constantly  cut  himself.  How  he  threw  me 
about !  In  Othello,  when  with  fiery  remorse, 
he  rushed  to  the  bed  of  Desdemona  after  the 
murder,  I  used  to  hold  my  breath,  lest  the  bang 
his  cimeter  gave  when  he  threw  himself  at 
me  should  force  me  back  to  life  with  a  shriek." 
Once  when  he  and  she  had  been  playing  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet  "  the  curtain  fell  on  Romeo  with  a 
sprained  thumb,  and  a  good  deal  of  long  hair 
on  his  sleeve,  and  with  Juliet  in  rags  while 
her  two  white  satin  shoes  were  lying  in  the 
corner  of  the  stage.  In  his  last  struggle  Romeo 
had  literally  shaken  his  beloved  out  of  her 
shoes ! 

Agnes  Robertson  was  one  of  the  attractions 
at  the  Museum  in  writing  of  whom  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  waxes  exceedingly  enthusiastic.  This  gifted 
young  Scotchwoman  played  for  the  first  time 
in  the  United  States  (in  the  season  of  1856-57) 
at  this  house  and  so  great  was  her  vogue  that 
all  Boston  stood  in  line  to  secure  tickets.  "  She 
was  petted  in  society,  —  for  women  were  fas- 
cinated by  her  perhaps  even  more  than  men,  — 
and  equally  in  drawing-rooms  and  among  the 
garish  adjuncts  of  the  stage  there  was  a  bright 


266  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

purity  about  her,  like  the  atmosphere  of  her 
own  Scotland. 

"  Opposite  the  Museum  in  those  days  was 
Mrs.  Mayer's  ice-cream  saloon,  a  favorite 
meeting  place  for  parties  going  to  the  play.  A 
mob  of  girls  would  cluster  about  the  sidewalk 
to  wait  the  exit  of  Agnes  Robertson,  and  the 
more  favored  customers  of  the  shop  gathered 
at  its  windows,  which  Mrs.  Mayer  would  empty 
of  her  showcase  to  make  room  for  the  curious 
throng.  .  .  .  Often  under  good  Mrs.  Vincent's 
care,  and  beneath  her  ample  cloak,  the  little 
form  was  smuggled  past  the  eager  eyes  "  to  her 
quarters  in  the  Tremont  House.  One  other 
delightful  bit  about  Mrs.  Vincent  must  be 
quoted  from  this  book.  It  is  a  picture  of  that 
lady  among  her  cats!  "  Once  when  a  visitor, 
who  could  not  abide  that  '  harmless  necessary  ' 
animal,  was  calling  at  the  house  on  Charles 
Street  the  door  was  pushed  stealthily  open, 
after  a  little  space,  and  a  great  glossy  black 
puss,  with  tail  erect  and  gleaming  eyes,  slowly 
entered  the  darkened  parlor.  Soon  a  second 
followed  the  first,  this  one  with  bushy  tail, 
red  eyes  and  bristling  fur.  Then  came  another 
and  another  until  there  were  five.  Great  was 
the  visitor's  relief  when  the  hostess  herself 
bustled  in  calling  *  William  Warren,'  '  Smithy,' 
and  so  on,  for  all  had  the  names  of  principal 
members  of  the  Museum  company!  " 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  267 

But  the  temptation  to  linger  unduly  over 
the  story  of  the  Museum  must  be  resisted. 
In  1892  the  exhibition  of  curiosities  was  prac- 
tically discontinued.  In  1896  the  wax  figures 
were  sold  to  a  travelling  manager  and  the  mum- 
mies were  given  to  the  Boston  Art  Museum. 
On  April  13,  1900,  there  occurred  a  slight  fire 
in  the  hall  of  curiosities  by  which  some  of  the 
paintings  were  injured  and,  in  1903,  Margaret 
Anglin  played  "  Mrs.  Dane's  Defence  "  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Vincent  Memorial  Hospital, 
this  being  the  last  performance  held  in  the 
old  playhouse  before  it  gave  way  to  an  office 
building.  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  was  sung  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  and,  as  the  final  curtain 
rang  down,  the  eyes  of  many  a  seasoned  play- 
goer were  dimmed  with  tears.  For  Boston  loved 
its  "  old  Museum  "  and  the  associations  which 
clustered  around  it. 

The  only  two  of  the  really  old  theatres  which 
survive  today  are  the  Howard  and  the  Boston, 
both  now  given  over  to  "  variety "  forms 
of  entertainment.  But  the  Boston  Theatre 
is  still  a  delight  to  the  eye,  as  its  designers 
intended  it  should  be.  William  W.  Clapp,  Jr., 
to  whose  Record  of  the  Boston  Stage  (published 
in  1853)  I  am  indebted  for  much  informa- 
tion about  the  old  theatres,  closes  his  carefully 
compiled  volume  with  an  allusion  to  the 
"New    Opera    House    and    Theatre    now    in 


268  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

process  of  erection  "  and  the  hope  that  the  same 
would  receive  from  the  public  a  most  generous 
support.  Whereupon  he  quotes  as  follows  from 
a  letter  just  sent  him  by  Thomas  Barry,  "  The 
drama  is  firmly  planted  in  New  England  for 
good  or  for  evil;  you  cannot  crush  it  by  preju- 
dice or  destroy  it  by  misplaced  religious  en- 
thusiasm. The  public  can  make  a  theatre  a 
blessing  or  a  curse.  .  .  .  You  will  have  sooner 
or  later  a  first  class  theatre  in  Boston  and,  if 
properly  built  and  properly  conducted,  it  will 
prove  a  boon  to  the  public  and  a  fortune  to  the 
manager."  In  many  ways  these  words  were 
prophetic.  For  Barry  himself  soon  came  over 
from  New  York  to  establish  such  a  theatre  in 
Boston  and  it  proved  to  be  quite  as  successful 
as  he  had  said  it  would. 

It  was  built  in  this  wise:  A  meeting  was 
called  at  the  Revere  House  in  1852  by  Joseph 
Leonard,  the  auctioneer,  for  the  purpose  of 
creating  interest  in  the  erection  of  a  new  Boston 
playhouse.  The  sum  deemed  necessary  to  the 
undertaking  ($250,000  in  blocks  of  stock  sold 
at  $1,000  a  share)  was  soon  secured,  an  appro- 
priate site  purchased,  the  contract  let  to  a 
firm  of  architects  who  carried  out  the  design 
for  which  H.  Noury  had  won  a  prize  of  $500,  — 
and,  on  September  11,  1854,  the  house  was 
dedicated. 

The  perfect  harmony  of  proportions  attained 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  269 

in  this  theatre  are  a  great  credit  to  the  period 
in  which  the  structure  was  built.  For  excellent 
acoustics  and  symmetry  were  the  aims  of  those 
behind  the  undertaking,  not  simply  accommoda- 
tion for  as  many  seats  as  could  be  crowded  into 
a  given  space.  Alexander  Corbett,  Jr.,  who  has 
written  entertainingly1  of  this  old  house,  says 
that  "  standees,"  who  nowadays  often  contrib- 
ute liberally  to  a  theatre's  income,  were 
practically  unknown  when  the  Boston  Theatre 
was  built  and  that  there  still  existed  much  of 
that  old  prejudice  against  occupants  of  the 
lower  floor  seats  —  those  whom  Hamlet  char- 
acterizes as  "  groundlings,  caring  only  for 
inexplicable  dumb  show  and  noise."  The 
balcony,  where  seats  sold  for  one  dollar  each, 
was  the  place  where  fashion  chose  to  sit,  when 
it  was  not  occupying  a  stage  box,  which  then 
cost  six  dollars. 

The  very  first  folding  chairs  ever  used  in  a 
theatre  were  found  here  on  the  opening  night 
and  were  warmly  commended  by  one  of  the 
critics,  as  "  being  so  ingeniously  contrived  as  to 
fold  up  and  allow  passing  and  having  nicely 
cushioned  backs."  Another  innovation,  which 
deserved  the  critic's  praise,  —  though  I  have 
yet  to  find  that  it  got  it,  —  was  the  substitution 
of  a  refreshment  counter  at  which  ice-cream, 
temperance  drinks  and  the  like  were  served, 

1  In  The  Bostonian.  vol.  I. 


270  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

for  the  bar-room  on  the  third  tier,  which  was 
then  a  feature  of  most  local  playhouses.  (The 
most  baneful  part  of  the  bar  lay  not  in  the 
drinks  served  but  in  the  "  demi-mondaines  1 
who  fluttered  about  near  by.) 

The  first  word  spoken  on  the  stage  of  this 
new  theatre  was  by  John  Gilbert,  who  read  an 
original  poem  of  Thomas  W.  Parsons,  which  had 
won  a  prize  of  one  hundred  dollars.  The  opening 
play  was  Sheridan's  "  Rivals "  and  a  farce 
called  "  The  Loan  of  a  Lover "  followed. 
According  to  the  custom  of  the  times,  this 
introduced  what  are  now  known  as  "  vaudeville 
specialties."  A  feature  of  the  orchestral  selec- 
tions was  the  playing  of  the  "  William  Tell  1 
overture,  the  critics  greatly  praising  this  change 
from  the  "  tinkling  polkas  "  with  which  most 
theatre  orchestras  regaled  their  patrons.  Only 
five  performances  a  week  were  given  here  at 
first.  Then  Saturday  matinees  were  inaugu- 
rated; but  not  for  several  years  was  there  a 
performance  on  the  eve  of  the  Lord's  Day. 

During  the  season  1859-60  the  name  of  the 
house  was  changed  to  the  "  Boston  Academy 
of  Music  "  and  grand  opera  with  Adelina  Patti 
as  the  prima  donna  and  Brignoli  as  the  tenor 
introduced.  Then  (in  1862),  under  the  man- 
agement of  Wyzeman  Marshall,  the  former 
name  was  restored.  Six  years  later,  in  February, 
1868,  came  the  memorable  production  of  "  The 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  271 

White  Fawn,"  that  marvel  of  spectacular  dis- 
play which  marks  the  beginning,  in  this  city, 
of  the  kind  of  thing  of  which  "  The  Black  Crook" 
was  the  pioneer  in  New  York.  The  Boston 
Theatre's  chief  renown,  however,  was  to  come 
from  its  association  with  great  acting  and  great 
actors,  among  them  Forrest,  Edwin  Booth, 
Charlotte  Cushman,  Rachel,  Fechter  and  Irving. 

From  1879  on  Henry  Clay  Barnabee  is  as- 
sociated with  the  history  of  comic  opera  at 
this  house,  first  as  a  member  of  the  Boston 
Ideal  Opera  Company  and  later  (after  1887)  as 
one  of  the  newly  formed  company  long  known 
as  the  Bostonians. 

It  was  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  in  1857,  that 
Edwin  Booth  first  met  sweet  Mary  Devlin, 
herself  then  a  member  of  the  stock  company, 
whom  he  soon  made  his  wife;  and  it  was  during 
Booth's  engagement  here,  in  the  spring  of 
1865,  that  the  assassination  of  Lincoln  took 
place  at  the  hands  of  the  tragedian's  brother. 
On  that  historic  evening  Mr.  Booth  was  seen 
in  "  The  Iron  Chest  "  and  "  Don  Csesar  de 
Bazan,"  and,  without  having  heard  of  the  sad 
tragedy,  retired  for  the  night  at  the  home  of 
his  friend  Dr.  Orlando  Tompkins  in  Franklin 
Square,  where  he  was  visiting.  "  On  the 
following  morning,"  writes  the  son  of  his  host  * 
I  an    old    family    servant,    his    colored    valet, 

1  In  The  History  of  the  Boston  Theatre. 


272  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

greeted  him  with,  '  Have  you  heard  the  news, 
Massa  Edwin?  President  Lincoln  done  been 
shot  and  killed.'  '  Great  God,'  said  the  horrified 
tragedian,  '  who  did  that?  '  '  Well,'  replied 
the  negro,  *  they  done  say  Massa  John  did  it/  i 
It  was  Dr.  Tompkins,  then  proprietor  of  the 
Boston  Theatre,  who  hastened  to  New  York  with 
Booth  to  comfort  the  grief -stricken  mother. 
Several  seasons  passed  before  Boston  again  saw 
Booth  on  the  stage.  Then  he  became  identified, 
in  the  public  mind,  with  that  Prince  of  Denmark 
who,  like  himself,  had  drunk  the  bitter  water  of 
affliction. 

Another  Hamlet  who  greatly  delighted  Boston 
Theatre  patrons  was  Charles  Fechter  (pro- 
nounced Fayshtair  by  the  person  chiefly  con- 
cerned) who  played  the  role  here  in  March, 
1870.  Clapp  pronounces *  Fechter's  love- 
making  to  have  been  the  best  he  ever  saw  on 
the  stage,  but  he  did  not  at  all  agree,  none  the 
less,  with  the  foreigner's  interpretation  of  the 
Danish  prince,  and  was  one  day  trying  to  make 
his  criticisms  understood  by  the  actor  only  to 
discover  that  Fechter  really  did  not  know  the 
meaning  of  some  of  the  English  words  upon 
which  his  conception  of  the  part  turned!  The 
prince,  said  Fechter,  did  not  procrastinate  but 
pursued  his  task  with  vigor.  "Do  you  not 
recall,"   he   urged,    "the    words   of    Hamlet's 

1  In  Reminiscences  of  a  Dramatic  Critic. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  273 

father  in  the  Queen's  closet,  *  I  come  to  wet 
thy  almost  blunted  purpose?  '  It  was  thus 
made  plain  that  Fechter  had  never  distinguished 
*  whet '  from  '  wet '  and  that  he  had  no  notion 
of  the  force  of  '  blunted.'  His  idea  was  that  the 
Ghost's  declared  purpose  was  to  '  wet '  down 
and  so  reduce  the  excessive  flame  of  Hamlet's 
zeal." 

Fechter  was  financially  interested  for  a  time 
in  Selwyn's  Theatre,  which  he  renamed  the 
Globe  and  of  which  he  announced  himself 
"sole  manager"  September  12,  1870.  This 
house  had  then  been  in  existence  only  three 
years  and  it  survived  less  than  three  years  longer, 
burning  down  May  30,  1873,  in  the  same  fire 
which  consumed  Chickering's  pianoforte  ware- 
rooms,  the  Chauncy  Hall  School  and  several 
other  buildings  in  that  vicinity.  It  was,  how- 
ever, soon  rebuilt  by  Arthur  Cheney,  who  kept 
control  of  it  until,  in  September,  1877,  it  passed 
into  the  management  of  John  Stetson.  To  us 
the  house  is  of  interest  as  the  scene,  on  May  15, 
1875,  of  Charlotte  Cushman's  farewell  appear- 
ance in  the  city  of  her  birth. 

Henry  Austin  Clapp  characterizes  Charlotte 
Cushman  as  "  the  only  actress  native  to  our 
soil  to  whom  the  adjective  '  great '  can  fitly  be 
applied."  By  birth,  kindred  and  education 
she  was  Bostonian  but  she  played  her  first 
part,  that  of  Lady  Macbeth,  in  New  Orleans. 


274  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Nearly  forty  years  later,  when  she  acted  for  the 
last  time  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in  Boston,  her 
role  was  again  —  Lady  Macbeth.  It  would  be 
very  interesting  to  know  how  far  and  in  what 
manner  Miss  Cushman's  early  conception  of 
this  great  part  differed  from  her  later  view  of  it, 
but  all  that  we  are  sure  of  is  that  she  pleased 
the  audience,  the  managers  and  the  members 
of  the  company  on  both  occasions.  Clapp 
speaks  especially  of  the  way  in  which  Miss 
Cushman's  voice  was  "  saturated  with  anguish  i 
in  this  part  during  the  soliloquy  near  the  opening 
of  the  second  scene  of  the  third  act :  — 

"  Nought's  had,  all's  spent, 
Where  our  desire  is  got  without  content: 
'Tis  safer  to  be  that  which  we  destroy 
Than  by  destruction  dwell  in  doubtful  joy." 

The  words,  he  says,  "  were  accompanied  by  the 
wringing  of  her  hands;  and  through  the  first 
couplet,  as  she  gave  it,  the  listener  was  made 
to  gaze  into  the  depths  of  a  soul,  soon  to  enter 
the  night  of  madness,  already  enduring  the 
torments  of  hell." 

Yet  this  Lady  Macbeth  was  a  gaunt,  stockily- 
built  woman  of  nearly  sixty  in  the  throes  of  a 
mortal  disease !  Her  return  to  the  stage  and  to 
the  readings  which  marked  her  later  life  were 
by  the  advice  of  her  physicians,  who  thought 
she  might  so  bear  with  less  anguish  (her  mind 


rT    -~    '-^~    ■—*    ^       "^^^S 

:-"^ 

1 

|           __   -   ,-^r-  -^sa^gr 

COLISEUM   IN    WHICH   THE    PEACE    JUBILEE  OF  1869    WAS   HELD. 

Page  295. 


FITCHBTJRG   STATION,    IN   THE    HALL    OF   WHICH   JENNY   LIND    GAVE 
HER   FINAL   BOSTON    CONCERT. 

Page  289. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  275 

being  occupied)  the  inevitable  suffering  imposed 
by  her  disease. 

"  I  was  born  a  tomboy,"  is  the  opening  sen- 
tence of  the  autobiographical  fragment  once 
written  by  Miss  Cushman  at  the  request  of  her 
friends.  In  those  days  "  tomboy  "  was  the 
epithet  bestowed  upon  all  girls  who  preferred 
games  and  movement  to  sewing  a  seam,  in  a 
quiet  chimney  corner,  and  the  needle  was  never 
a  favorite  implement  with  the  great  tragedian. 
Though  Charlotte  was  an  apt  scholar  the  family 
circumstances  were  such  that  she  left  school 
and  began  to  help  towards  her  support  when 
she  was  only  thirteen.  At  this  time  her  home 
was  in  Charlestown,  not  in  the  North  End, 
where  she  had  been  born  on  the  site  now  given 
over  to  a  schoolhouse  bearing  her  name.  Pov- 
erty was  her  lot  for  a  long  time,  even  after  she 
had  begun  to  do  well  in  her  profession.  For 
as  soon  as  she  had  secured  a  good  position  at 
the  Park  Theatre,  New  York,  she  brought  her 
mother  on  from  Boston  and  made  her  care  and 
that  of  the  four  other  children  the  business  of 
her  life.  Then  her  dearly  cherished  brother, 
Charley,  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  a  horse  she  had 
given  him  —  a  blow  from  which  she  never  quite 
recovered.  "  The  jacket  he  wore  at  the  time 
was  always  preserved,"  says  Miss  Stebbins,  her 
friend  and  biographer,  "  and  went  with  them 
from  place  to  place  through  all  her  wanderings." 


276  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

This  loss  was  particularly  hard  for  Charlotte 
Cushman  to  bear  because  hers  was  an  ardently 
affectionate  nature  and  she  had  just  struggled 
through  "  the  very  hardest  thing  that  can 
come  to  a  woman."  Yet  because  she  had  lived 
through  this  and  once  and  for  all  gave  over 
"  casting  about  for  the  '  counterpart '  "  she 
was  able  to  give  her  entire  self  to  her  work. 

In  this  and  in  the  nobility  of  her  character 
lies  the  secret  of  her  success.  Moreover,  she 
had  enormous  courage.  The  story  of  her  setting 
forth  at  twenty-eight,  to  conquer  London,  all 
by  herself,  is  astounding.  One  very  interesting 
role  undertaken  by  Miss  Cushman,  while  in 
London,  —  and  in  this  country  also,  later,  — 
was  that  of  "  Romeo  "  to  her  sister  Susan's 
"  Juliet."  This  was  such  a  triumph  of  act- 
ing that  James  Sheridan  Knowles,  the  great 
dramatist  and  critic,  was  completely  carried 
away  by  it.  Of  her  acting  of  the  passage 
where  Romeo  flings  himself  upon  the  ground, 
"  taking  the  measure  of  an  unmade  grave,"  he 
says :  "  It  was  a  scene  of  topmost  passion  — ■ 
not  simulated  passion;  no  such  thing  —  real, 
palpably  real;  the  genuine  heart-storm  was  on 
in  its  wildest  fitfulness  of  fury,  and  I  listened  and 
gazed  and  held  my  breath,  while  my  blood  ran 
hot  and  cold.  I  am  sure  it  must  have  been  the 
case  with  every  one  in  the  house,  but  I  was  all 
absorbed  in  Romeo  till  a  thunder  of  applause 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  277 

recalled  me  to  myself."  And  of  her  assumption 
of  the  difficult  part  of  Claude  Melnotte  in 
'  The  Lady  of  Lyons  "  Justin  McCarthy  says: 
"  I  have  seen  Claude  Melnotte  played  by  many 
great  actors,  from  Macready  to  Irving,  but 
Miss  Cushman  eclipsed  them  all.  She  created 
for  me  the  only  human,  the  only  possible,  and 
the  only  endurable  Claude  Melnotte  I  have 
ever  seen." 

It  is,  however,  for  her  work  in  Meg  Merrilies 
that  Miss  Cushman  will  be  longest  remembered. 
For  this  was  the  most  famous  and  popular  of 
her  efforts  and  it  was,  also,  the  only  thing  she 
did  which  could  deservedly  be  called  a  "  crea- 
tion." Scott's  character  was  nothing  but  the 
germ  of  the  part  as  she  played  it. 

Much  of  Miss  Cushman's  life,  after  she  had 
made  her  success,  was  passed  in  Rome,  where  she 
had  a  pleasant  home  and  exercised  delightful 
hospitality.  Theodore  Parker  was  one  of  the 
Bostonians  whose  last  days  in  the  Eternal  City 
she  sought  to  cheer.  Two  notes  from  him  give 
a  pleasant  insight  into  the  sweet  domestic  side 
of  this  great  woman: 

"  My  dear  Miss  Cushman:  —  Many  thanks 
for  all  your  favors,  —  the  drive  the  other  day, 
the  old  fashioned  chicken  pie  this  day.  Alas! 
I  have  no  coach,  no  oven;  but  as  you  have 
often  taken  a  kindly  interest  in  me,  I  think 


278  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

you  may  like  to  read  some  of  my  latest  publica- 
tions, so  I  send  a  couple  of  little  things  which 
came  by  mail  and  are  the  only  copies  in  Europe." 

.  .  .  Another  note  says,  "  I  thank  you  heartily 
for  the  great  loaf  of  Indian  corn  bread.  It  is 
like  the  song  of  Zion  sung  in  a  strange  land  and 
among  the  willows.  It  carries  me  back  to  dear 
old  Boston  once  more." 

To  Miss  Cushman,  as  well  as  to  Parker, 
Boston  was  very  dear.  Three  years  after  the 
famous  Radical's  death  she  helped  dedicate 
the  Great  Organ  (November  2,  1863)  in  the 
Music  Hall  with  which  his  fame  is  bound  up. 
Yet  the  triumph  of  her  career,  so  far  as  Boston's 
civic  festivals  go,  undoubtedly  came  when  the 
schoolhouse  which  had  been  built  on  the  site 
of  her  birth  and  named  for  her  was  dedicated. 
On  this  occasion  she  made  what  was  called  her 
"  maiden  speech  "  to  a  thousand  girls  assembled 
in  the  upper  hall.  She  sat  radiant  upon  the 
platform,  amidst  teachers  and  dignitaries,  a 
flush  of  joy  illuminating  her  face,  already  pale 
with  the  inroads  of  the  insidious  cancer  which 
ended  her  life  in  five  short  years.  She  said 
she  had  walked  those  streets  as  poor  as  any  girl 
within  the  sound  of  her  voice.  They  knew 
something  of  the  niche  she  filled  in  the  pantheoi 
of  culture  and  art;    but  she  assured  them  sh< 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  279 

had  gained  this  altitude  by  unflagging  industry, 
unswerving  principle,  unfaltering  persistence, 
untiring  patience  —  by  giving  herself  outright 
to  her  work;  for  she  ranked  painstaking  above 
ability  and  genius. 

Miss  Cushman's  delight  in  this  school  event 
was  profound.  In  a  letter  written  to  a  friend 
in  England,  we  read:  "  When  I  went  to  my 
native  city,  where  they  never  believed  in  me 
as  much  as  they  did  elsewhere,  I  came  to  have 
such  praise  as  made  my  heart  satisfied.  ...  I 
was  proud,  first,  that  an  actress  had  won  this 
favor;  next,  that  for  the  first  time  it  had  been 
bestowed  upon  a  woman;  and  then  came  the 
civic  pride,  in  knowing  that  my  townspeople 
should  care  that  I  ever  was  born.  Nothing 
in  all  my  life  has  so  pleased  me." 

The  last  winter  of  Miss  Cushman's  life  was 
passed  at  the  Parker  House  in  Boston.  And 
there,  surrounded  by  loving  friends,  she  died 
February  18,  1876.  She  was  buried  in  Mount 
Auburn  after  a  funeral  service  in  King's  Chapel. 
From  among  the  many  contemporary  tributes  of 
pulpit  and  press  I  have  selected  the  following  by 
Rev.  Henry  W.  Foote,  then  the  minister  at  this 
historic  church,  because  it  does  justice  to  the 
possibilities  of  the  dramatic  profession  as  well  as 
because  it  memorializes  Miss  Cushman :  "  There 
was  a  time  when  the  world  sneered  at  the 
possibility  of  virtue  in  dramatic  life,  and  by 


280  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  sneer,  and  what  went  with  it,  did  its  worst 
to  make  virtue  impossible.  But  it  has  been  given 
to  our  generation  to  show  in  lives,  among  which 
happily  our  noble  townswoman  does  not  stand 
alone,  that  a  pure  spirit  can  go  stainless,  as  the 
lady  in  Milton's '  Comus,'  through  corruptions." 


CHAPTER  IX 

SOME   ARTISTS   AND    MUSICIANS   WHO    MADE    THE 
CITY   FAMOUS 

JUST  as  Benjamin  West  had  been  of  immense 
service  to  Copley  at  a  crucial  point  in 
his  (Copley's)  career  *  so  the  Pennsylvanian 
greatly  helped  Gilbert  Stuart  when  that  gifted 
young  American  presented  himself,  without  any 
kind  of  introduction,  at  his  London  studio 
and  besought  his  good  offices.  Gilbert  Stuart, 
generally  acknowledged  to  be  our  best  portrait 
painter,  was  born  in  Rhode  Island  (in  1755), 
but  •  inasmuch  as  he  passed  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life  in  Boston,  —  where  he  died, 
July  27,  1828,  —  he  comes  properly  within  the 
scope  of  this  book. 

Almost  in  his  cradle  this  born  painter  began 
his  life  work,  and  by  the  time  he  was  thirteen 
he  had  taught  himself  so  much  that  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  portrait  orders  which  would 
have  enabled  him  to  at  least  live  by  his  brush. 
But,  just  then,  Cosmo  Alexander,  who  was  in 
this  country  on  a  visit,  saw  some  of  his  work 
and  was  so  struck  with  his  talent  that  he  took 

1  See  Old  Boston  Days  and  Ways,  p.  190. 


282  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

him  back  to  England  with  him,  promising  to  put 
him  there  in  the  way  of  good  instruction. 
Unhappily,  however,  Alexander  died  as  soon 
as  he  reached  home  and  poor  Stuart  was  left, 
friendless  and  penniless,  in  a  strange  and  hostile 
land.  For  two  years  he  struggled  manfully  to 
educate  himself  at  Glasgow  University  and  then 
he  returned  to  America  in  the  hope  of  finding 
Fortune  once  more  favorable  to  his  talents. 
But  this  was  at  a  time  when  men's  souls  were 
so  tried  by  anxieties  that  they  were  not  having 
their  portraits  painted,  and  in  1775  Stuart  again 
sailed  for  England  in  the  last  vessel  that  left 
Boston  harbor  before  the  blockade. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  he  sought  out 
West,  who,  seeing  his  promise  of  genius,  taught 
him  gladly  and  gave  him  a  home  in  his  family. 
In  ten  years  he  had  made  such  progress 
that  he  was  able  to  set  up  a  studio  for  himself. 
With  immediate  success,  too!  No  one  but 
Reynolds  and  Gainsborough  charged  and  re- 
ceived such  large  prices  for  their  pictures  as 
Stuart  at  this  time  commanded. 

Then  (in  1792)  he  grew  suddenly  desirous  of 
seeing  his  native  land  again  and,  abandoning 
all  his  old  friends,  he  sailed  for  New  York. 
Two  years  there,  followed  by  a  sojourn  in  Phila- 
delphia and  another  in  Washington,  intervened 
before  he  came  to  Boston.  But  when  he  did 
come  he  stayed  the  rest  of  his  life,  as  has  been 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  283 

said;  and  in  Boston  may  be  found  today  his 
greatest  work,  the  famous  portrait  of  Wash- 
ington, for  which,  with  that  of  Mrs.  Washington, 
the  Athenaeum  paid  $1500  after  Stuart's  death. 

For  many  years  Stuart's  home  and  painting- 
room  was  in  Washington  Place,  Fort  Hill, 
where  his  geniality  and  charm  as  a  conver- 
sationalist drew  many  sitters,  all  of  whom  soon 
assumed  in  his  presence  their  most  characteristic 
expressions  and  so  met  half  way  the  artist's 
determination  to  get  a  faithful  portrait.  Wash- 
ington Allston  has  said  of  him  that  "  he  seemed 
to  dive  into  the  thoughts  of  men;  for  they  were 
made  to  rise  and  speak  on  the  surface."  His 
task,  as  he  himself  put  it,  was  "  copying  the 
works  of  God  and  leaving  clothes  to  the  tailors 
and  mantua-makers,"  an  interesting  variation, 
surely,  from  the  manner  of  Copley,  who  pre- 
ceded him  in  the  painting  of  all  Boston's 
"  best  people." 

During  the  last  ten  years  of  Stuart's  life 
Washington  Allston  was  his  near  neighbor, 
living  and  working  in  a  barn  on  the  Prince 
Estate,  near  the  corner  of  Pearl  and  High  Streets. 
Allston  was  born  in  South  Carolina  in  1779 
and,  after  being  educated  at  Newport  and  at 
Harvard  College,  sailed  for  England  in  1801. 
There  and  on  the  Continent  he  enjoyed  a 
period  of  study,  but  the  richest  years  of  his  life 
were  four  which  he  passed  in  Rome  living  on 


284  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

terms  of  close  friendship  with  Coleridge,  Turner, 
Fenimore  Cooper  and  Irving.  He  declared 
that  he  owed  more,  intellectually,  to  Coleridge 
than  to  anybody  else,  and  Coleridge,  in  turn, 
pronounced  him  "  the  first  genius  produced 
by  the  Western  world."  It  was  generally  con- 
ceded that,  for  two  hundred  years,  no  artist's 
coloring  had  so  closely  resembled  that  of 
Titian  as  did  Allston's,  and  there  was  certainly 
very  much  of  poetry  in  the  conception  of  many 
of  his  pictures. 

Allston's  first  period  of  residence  in  Boston 
was  during  the  years  1809-10.  At  this  time 
he  married  Miss  Ann  Channing,  sister  of 
William  Ellery  Channing,  to  whom  he  had 
long  been  engaged,  and  kept  a  studio  in  Court 
Street,  between  Brattle  Street  and  Cornhill, 
where  he  executed  several  portraits  at  good 
prices.  The  early  death  of  Mrs.  Allston  in 
England  was  so  great  a  blow  to  him  that  for 
a  long  time  he  was  nearly  frantic  with  grief; 
but  eventually  his  mind  regained  its  tone  and, 
in  1818,  he  again  came  to  Boston  believing  that 
he  ought  now  to  give  his  own  country  the  benefit 
of  such  talent  as  he  possessed.  In  1830  he 
was  married  for  a  second  time  to  a  sister  of 
Richard  Henry  Dana  and  the  next  year  he 
built  himself  a  studio  in  Cambridgeport  which 
was  to  be  his  home  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Here 
he  worked,  off  and  on,  for  years,  —  until  his 


00    L 


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§  I  * 

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bfi 


IN    OLD   BOSTON  285 

death  in  1843,  indeed,  —  at  the  "  Belshazzar," 
on  which  several  liberal  Bostonians  had  ad- 
vanced part  of  the  purchase  price  of  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  demanded  for  it.  Worry  over  his 
inability  to  complete  this  work  is  believed  to 
have  hastened  Allston's  death.  The  picture 
is  now  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 

The  next  Boston  painter  of  genius  —  for 
neither  Chester  Harding  nor  Joseph  Ames,  who 
were  popular  portrait  painters  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  deserve  this  appellation  —  was  William 
Morris  Hunt,  who  made  his  home  in  our  city 
from  1862  until  his  death  in  1879.  Hunt  was 
born  in  Brattleboro,  Vermont,  in  1824  and  he 
entered  Harvard  College  in  1840.  But  he 
quitted  Cambridge  without  taking  his  degree 
and,  after  studying  at  Dlisseldorf  and  in  Cou- 
ture's  atelier  in  Paris,  fell  under  the  spell  of 
Millet,  through  whose  influence  his  work  grew 
notably  in  depth  and  power.  "  When  I  came 
to  know  Millet,"  he  has  said,  "  I  took  broader 
views  of  humanity,  of  the  world,  of  life.  His 
subjects  were  real  people  who  had  work  to  do. 
.  .  .  He  is  the  only  man  since  the  Bible  was 
written  who  has  expressed  things  in  a  Biblical 
way."  Millet's  work  is  now  so  highly  regarded 
that  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  Boston 
artist  had  much  to  do  with  bringing  to  him  the 
success  he  deserved,  —  and  that  the  first  hun- 
dred  dollar  bill   Millet   ever  had   came  from 


286  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Martin  Brimmer,  to  whom,  through  Hunt's 
good  offices,  one  of  the  master's  pictures  was 
sold. 

In  1855  Hunt  returned  to  America  and,  by 
his  marriage  to  Miss  Louisa  Dumeresq  Perkins, 
became  a  member  of  Boston's  inner  circle. 
What  "  Hunt  said,"  for  he  was  a  great  wit,  was 
soon  quoted  at  every  dinner-party.  His  home  at 
this  time  was  on  Beacon  Street,  but  he  did  his 
painting  in  a  small  room  at  the  corner  of  Sum- 
mer and  Hawley  Streets.  There  he  painted  his 
first  great  portrait,  that  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw, 
which  now  hangs  in  the  Court  House  at  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  and  has  justly  been  likened,  for 
its  wonderful  rendering  of  character,  to  the 
portraits  of  Velasquez.  Hunt  had  studied 
sculpture  in  his  youth  and  there  is  in  this 
portrait  (as  well  as  in  that  of  John  A.  Andrew, 
reproduced  in  this  book)  much  that  suggests 
the  sculptor's  treatment  of  his  subject.  When 
the  Shaw  portrait  was  completed  it  was  ex- 
hibited in  the  gallery  of  Williams  and  Everett, 
and  while  there,  says  Helen  M.  Knowlton,  who 
was  a  pupil  of  Hunt  and  has  written  a  sympa- 
thetic life  of  him,  "  excited  more  derision  than 
any  other  portrait  that  had  even  been  shown  in 
Boston."  Yet  after  Hammatt  Billings  had 
declared  it  "  the  greatest  portrait  that  was 
ever  painted  in  this  country "  the  rule-of- 
thumb  critics  were  so  disconcerted  that  they 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  287 

quickly  subsided.  This  portrait  has  in  it  some 
of  the  qualities  which  have  made  Sargent's 
Wertheimer  the  wonder  of  our  own  time. 

From  the  manuscripts  of  Kate  Field  Miss 
Knowlton  quotes  the  following  vivid  description 
of  Hunt  in  his  studio:  "You  like  real  artists 
and  specimens  of  real  art,  so  come  with  me  to 
Summer  Street,  mount  to  the  top  of  Mercantile 
Building,  pause  before  the  name  of  Hunt  and 
knock.  The  door  is  opened  by  a  tall  thin 
man  .  .  .  crowned  with  a  round  hat  and  re- 
sembling Titian  as  painted  by  himself.  You 
know  that  you  are  standing  before  an  original 
man,  before  one  who  answers  his  own  questions. 
.  .  .  Hunt  has  genius,  not  fully  developed,  per- 
haps (he  calls  himself  a  student),  but  still 
genius,  and  is  possessed  of  all  the  charming 
simplicity  of  character  peculiar  to  it.  Cordial 
in  manner  and  tremendously  in  earnest  while 
conversing  upon  real  things,  you  thank  the 
good  stars  that  have  led  you  to  one  of  the  elect, 
one  of  the  few  who  make  life  interesting,  who 
furnish  the  seasoning  for  the  social  pudding, 
a  man  with  whom  you  can  sit  down  and  have 
a  royal  good  talk,  from  which  you  arise  ex- 
hilarated and  refreshed,  .  .  .  for  William  Hunt 
hates  sham  in  all  its  forms." 

The  great  fire  of  1872  destroyed  almost  all 
Hunt's  drawings  and  sketches,  —  the  work  of 
more  than  twenty  years.     But  he  rallied  from 


288  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  blow  with  characteristic  pluck  and,  five 
years  later,  was  exhibiting  in  his  new  studio  at 
1  Park  Square  a  very  large  and  varied  collection 
of  works  done  since  the  fire.  In  the  spring  of 
1878  he  spent  some  time  at  Niagara  and  made 
several  views  of  the  Falls.  From  this  work  he 
was  called  to  fill  two  large  spaces  above  the 
windows  of  the  Senate  Chamber  at  Albany, 
which  he  did  with  great  success.  But  his  health 
had  not  for  some  years  been  rugged  and  he  had 
overtaxed  it.  The  following  July  he  went  to 
the  Isles  of  Shoals  to  rest  under  the  care  of  his 
friends,  the  Thaxters,  and  there,  in  September, 
the  end  came.  His  lifeless  body  was  found 
floating  in  a  small  reservoir  among  the  low  hills, 
having  fallen  from  the  adjacent  ledge  during 
an  attack  of  the  vertigo  to  which  he  was  subject. 
Mrs.  S.  W.  Whitman,  who  was  one  of  Hunt's 
foremost  pupils,  wrote  of  him,  "  Happily  for 
us  his  works  remain ;  and  to  those  among  who] 
he  lived  there  remains,  also,  the  glowing  re- 
membrance of  a  nature  high,  generous  and  true, 
—  of  gifts  so  noble  and  of  a  presence  so  inspiring 
that  the  very  memory  seems  still,  even  as  h< 
seemed,  c  a  splendor  among  shadows.'  " 

What  is  generally  regarded  as  Hunt's  master- 
piece, "The  Bathers,"  has  been  acquired  by 
the  Worcester  Art  Museum  for  $10,000,  th( 
record  price  for  a  work  of  his.  The  picture 
represents   a   group   of   nude   boys   disporting 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  289 

themselves  in  a  secluded  pool  overhung  by 
luxuriant  green  foliage.  The  trees,  the  gray 
tones  of  the  water,  and  the  flesh  tones  of  the 
figures,  which  are  partly  under  water,  combine 
to  make  a  beautiful  color  scheme  while  the 
figure  of  one  lad,  who  is  poised  on  his  com- 
panions' shoulders,  ready  to  dive,  is  a  superb 
piece  of  modelling. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  musicians  whom 
"  fond  memory  recalls "  in  connection  with 
nineteenth  century  Boston:  Jenny  Lind,  who 
was  married  here,  Ole  Bull,  who  had  a  residence 
in  nearby  Cambridge,  and  Adelaide  Phillips, 
whose  early  years  were  passed  in  Boston  and 
who  always  called  the  city  "  home." 

Let  us  then  begin  with  Jenny  Lind,  whom 
Phineas  T.  Barnum  brought  to  America  in  1850 
and  who  seems  in  every  way  to  have  been  one 
of  the  few  among  that  showman's  offerings 
who  was  "  worth  the  price  of  admission."  It 
was  a  high  price,  too;  $640  was  paid  in  Boston 
for  the  first  choice  of  seats  at  her  initial  concert 
in  the  Old  Tremont  Temple.  Thomas  Ryan, 
to  whose  Recollections  of  An  Old  Musician 
I  am  indebted  for  much  of  my  information 
concerning  the  concerts  of  this  period,  records 
that  he  himself  paid  fifteen  dollars  apiece  for 
three  good  seats  on  this  occasion.  And  when 
Mile.  Lind  gave  her  final  concert  in  Boston,  in 
the   hall    of   the   then   just-finished   Fitchburg 


290  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Depot,  one  thousand  people  paid  a  dollar  each 
for  standing  room. 

Whatever  Jenny  Lind  did  as  a  singer  pales 
before  what  Barnum  accomplished  for  her  as  a 
press  agent.  Probably  a  year  in  advance  of 
the  young  woman's  arrival  in  America  he  began 
to  spread  broadcast,  through  the  papers  of  the 
day,  tales  of  "  the  Swedish  Nightingale,"  the 
"  musical  saint,"  the  "  angel  of  the  stage  "  and 
the  rest.  A  regular  system  of  short  paragraphs 
and  lengthy  histories  was  sent  out  from  his 
offices  and  published  far  and  wide,  the  reason 
being  that  he  had  agreed,  without  ever  having 
seen  or  heard  Jenny  Lind,  to  pay  her  $1000 
each  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  concerts  in  addi- 
tion to  paying  all  the  expenses  of  herself,  her 
secretary  and  her  companion.  Her  pianist  was 
to  be  given  $25,000,  her  baritone  $12,500  and 
both  were  to  be  free  of  all  expense.  Before  the 
singer's  departure  from  Europe  the  entire 
amount  had  to  be  satisfactorily  secured  and  in 
order  to  do  this  —  the  sum  necessary  came  to 
$187,000  —  Barnum  nearly  bankrupted  himself. 
No  wonder  he  made  it  the  object  of  his  life  to 
create  an  overwhelming  interest  in  his  "  star." 

Mile.  Lind's  early  history  was  accordingly 
told  and  retold:  the  poverty;  the  tribulations; 
the  childish  singing-days  in  the  streets  for 
coppers;  her  exquisite  voice,  which  so  moved 
a  benevolent  lady  that  she  "  took  her  up  "  and 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  291 

gave  her  lessons  under  Garcia;  then  years  of 
careful  training  for  the  opera  and  preparations 
for  a  public  debut.  Finally,  all  the  great  capitals 
of  Europe  are  at  Jenny's  feet;  in  one  the  police 
were  not  able  to  control  the  crowds  who  wished 
to  hear  her  and  the  infantry  had  to  be  called 
out !  Yet,  after  six  years  of  this,  said  the  press- 
notices,  Jenny  Lind  came  suddenly  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  must  not  longer  mingle  with 
theatre  folk.  Fortuitously,  it  was  mentioned 
that  oratorio  was  her  best  medium  and  that 
she  was  now  giving  away  all  her  money  to  the 
poor. 

Never  before  in  the  world's  history  had  such 
talent  been  united  with  so  many  virtues  and 
such  great  benevolence!  So  skilfully  was  the 
public  assured  of  this  by  Barnum  that,  when 
Jenny  Lind's  steamer  arrived  in  New  York, 
enthusiasm  was  actually  boundless.  Twenty 
thousand  people  surrounded  her  hotel  until 
midnight,  serenading  her  with  a  band  of  twD 
hundred  pieces  and  hoarsely  shouting  her  name. 
Not  until  Barnum  had  led  her  out  on  the 
balcony  to  bow  her  thanks,  would  the  crowd 
disperse.  Mile.  Lind  was  now  a  mania  just  as 
her  manager  had  meant  she  should  be. 

But  could  she  sing?  you  ask.  Hear  what 
Thomas  Ryan,  an  accomplished  musician,  and 
for  many  years  a  member  of  the  famous  Men- 
delssohn Quintet  Club  of  Boston,  has  to  say  on 


292  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

this  score:  "  She  deserved  all  that  was  claimed 
for  her,  —  unmusical  nonsensical  stories  ex- 
cepted. Her  voice  was  of  extensive  range, 
reaching  easily  to  D.  in  alt,  —  a  voice  of  veiled 
quality  with  something  of  the  essence  of  a  tear 
in  it.  She  had  almost  unlimited  execution, 
sang  with  great  earnestness,  and  did  everything 
in  a  highly  finished  broad  style.  Such  pieces 
as  *  On  Mighty  Pens  '  from  the  Creation,  and 
■  I  know  that  My  Redeemer  Liveth  '  she  sang 
with  so  devotional  a  sentiment  that  she  really 
seemed  like  some  inspired  priestess  proclaiming 
her  faith.  Doubtless  many  people  in  Boston 
will  remember  that,  when  she  had  reached  the 
end  of  the  last-named  song  and  made  her  bow, 
Daniel  Webster,  who  was  a  listener,  arose  from 
his  seat  in  the  audience  and,  with  great  dignity, 
returned  the  bow. 

"  Her  intonation  was  perfect.  Benedict  had 
written  for  her  a  very  long  cadenza  to  fit  the  end 
of  a  cavatina  from  '  Beatrice  de  Tenda.'  The 
cadenza  was  sung  without  accompaniment;  it 
covered  two  pages  of  music  paper  and  was 
written  in  a  style  suited  to  an  instrumental 
concerto.  Towards  the  end  there  was  a  sequence 
of  ascending  and  descending  arpeggios  of  di- 
minished sevenths  which  flowed  into  a  scale  of 
trills  from  a  low  note  to  one  of  her  highest; 
then,  dwelling  very  long  on  that  note  and  trilling 
on   it,   she   gradually,   tranquilly,   returned   to 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  293 

the  theme  of  the  cavatina,  when  it  was  perceived 
that  her  wonderfully  fine  musical  ear  had  un- 
erringly guided  her  through  the  mazes  of  the 
long  cadenza  and  brought  her  to  the  tonic  note  of 
the  piece  with  surprising  correctness  of  intona- 
tion. I  think  she  was  not  overrated  when  called 
a  "  great  singer.'  " 

As  soon  as  Barnum  saw  what  his  "  Nightin- 
gale "  could  do  he  offered  to  share  with  her  all 
the  proceeds  above  $5500  a  night  and  pay  her 
her  stipulated  $1000  a  night  beside.  In  this 
way  her  receipts  from  the  tour  which  he  man- 
aged for  her  were  over  $175,000  and  his  over 
$530,000.  Nearly  all  her  share  she  gave,  as 
she  gave  practically  all  her  money,  to  charity. 
Yet  there  was  a  close  approach  to  a  riot,  — 
glass  being  smashed  and  many  ladies  fainting 
because  of  the  great  showman's  bad  faith,  —  at 
the  Fitchburg  Depot  concert,  and  if  "  P.  T." 
had  not  fled  by  carriage  from  his  quarters  at 
the  Revere  House  and  boarded  the  night  train 
to  New  York  from  the  suburbs  he  would  have 
been  roughly  handled  by  the  indignant  mob 
whose  money  he  had  taken  for  standing  room 
that  didn't  exist. 

The  house  in  quaint  Louisburg  Square  where 
Jenny  Lind  married  her  accompanist,  Otto 
Goldschmidt,  is  still  standing.  It  was  then  the 
home  of  Samuel  G.  Ward,  a  well  known  Bos- 
tonian   who    was   the   local   agent   of   Baring 


294  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Brothers,  the  London  bankers  of  that  era,  and 
the  house  with  which  the  "  Swedish  Nightin- 
gale "  did  her  business.  In  the  Boston  Courier 
of  February  6,  1853,  appears  this  brief  notice  of 
the  wedding: 

"  Although  St.  Valentine's  Day  has  not  quite 
reached  us,  yet  the  '  first  bird  of  the  season  ' 
has  already  chosen  her  mate.  The  queen  of 
song  has  committed  matrimony.  Jenny  Lind 
is  Jenny  Lind  no  longer,  but  Mrs.  Goldschmidt. 
In  plain  English,  the  following  record  was  made 
yesterday  on  the  books  of  the  Boston  city 
registrar : 

"  *  Married  in  this  city,  at  the  residence  of 
Mr.  S.  G.  Ward,  by  Rev.  Charles  Mason,  as- 
sisted by  Rev.  Dr„  Wainwright  of  New  York, 
the  Swedish  consul,  Hon.  Edward  Everett, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  W.  Ward,  Mr.  N.  I.  Bowditch, 
her  legal  adviser,  and  other  friends,  Otto 
Goldschmidt  of  Hamburg  to  Mile.  Jenny  Lind 
of  Stockholm,  Sweden.' 

"  Mr.  Goldschmidt  has  attended  Jenny  as  her 
pianist  for  many  months  past.  The  match  has 
taken  everybody  by  surprise,  though  we  must 
say  that  we  were  struck  with  something  con- 
foundedly arch  and  roguish  in  the  twinkle  of 
her  eye  when  she  sang  *  John  Anderson,  My 
Jo,'  the  last  time  she  appeared  in  public  in 
this  city.  Such,  however,  has  been  the  discretion 
of  the  parties  that  it  may  have  been  a  '  foregone 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  295 

conclusion  '  for  years.  The  next  song  of  the 
nightingale  will,  of  course,  be  '  Home,  Sweet 
Home.'  May  she  live  a  thousand  years  and 
sing  it  every  day." 

For  one  of  her  tours  Jenny  Lind  engaged 
the  orchestral  services  of  the  Germania  Society, 
an  organization  which  first  came  to  this  country 
in  April,  1848,  and  in  which  William  Schultze 
was  long  first  violin  and  Carl  Zerrahn  first 
flute.  This  organization  soon  put  in  a  whole 
season  in  Boston,  giving  twenty-four  Saturday 
evening  concerts  and  the  same  number  of 
public  rehearsals  on  Wednesday  afternoons. 
It  appears  to  have  been  the  precursor  of  the 
Boston  Symphony  orchestra  which  for  many 
years  was  generously  maintained  by  Mr.  Henry 
L.  Higginson.  It  was  with  the  Germania  that 
the  famous  girl  violinist,  Camilla  Urso,  of 
whom  a  competent  critic  has  said  that  she  was 
one  of  the  few  young  wonders  who  developed 
into  great  artists  at  maturity,  travelled  as  a 
star. 

The  red-letter  musical  event  in  the  Boston 
of  this  period  was  the  Peace  Jubilee  of  1869, 
organized  and  conducted  by  Patrick  Sarsfield 
Gilmore,  Carl  Zerrahn  acting  as  general  musical 
director,  Ole  Bull  and  Carl  Rosa  playing  first 
violin  in  an  orchestra  numbering  one  thousand 
pieces  (!)  the  great  singer,  Parepa-Rosa,  doing 
the  soprano  solo  parts  and  Adelaide  Phillips 


296  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  contralto  ones.  Gilmore  had  himself  been 
in  the  Civil  War  and  the  impulse  to  celebrate 
in  festive  fashion  peace  and  the  gathering  of 
the  Southern  States  back  into  the  fold  seems  to 
have  been  a  genuine  one  with  him.  But  besides 
being  a  loyal  Unionist  and  a  respectable  musi- 
cian he  possessed  great  executive  ability  and  so 
was  able  to  inspire  a  large  number  of  people 
with  such  belief  in  the  success  of  his  undertaking 
that  they  were  willing  to  become  its  financial 
guarantors.  Accordingly,  a  wooden  building  of 
good  acoustic  properties  was  erected  about  where 
the  Copley  Plaza  now  stands,  —  a  building 
capable  of  holding  fifty  thousand  persons,  in- 
cluding a  chorus  of  ten  thousand  and  the  great 
orchestra  already  mentioned ! 

The  first  question  which  arises  in  connection 
with  this  "monster"  festival  is  —  where  did 
the  ten  thousand  trained  chorus  singers  come 
from?  The  answer  is  "from  all  over  New 
England."  This  was  the  era  of  the  "Yankee 
singing  school"  and  of  the  so-called  "musical 
conventions."  On  these  latter  occasions  famous 
oratorios  were  usually  given,  and  young  singers 
like  Annie  Louise  Cary,  —  who  died  only  lately, 
—  found  a  favorable  opportunity  to  begin  their 
solo  career.  Nearly  every  oratorio  worthy  of 
mention  was  thus  known,  either  entire  or  in 
part,  to  music  lovers  throughout  New  England. 
And  nearly  all  these  people  were  ready  and 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  297 

glad,  after  being  carefully  drilled  by  Mr. 
Zerrahn  and  his  assistants  in  their  home-towns, 
to  come  to  Boston  and  help  Mr.  Gilmore  make 
a  Peace  Festival.  Of  course  real  critics,  like 
John  S.  Dwight,  loathed  the  whole  thing  and 
said  so.  (Dwight  absolutely  refused  to  endorse 
the  Jubilee  in  the  columns  of  his  Journal  of 
Music  even  when  requested  to  do  so  by  Oliver 
Ditson,  his  publisher.  And  he  is  said  to  have 
spent  the  whole  week  at  Nahant,  where  the 
strident  echoes  of  the  affair  could  not  reach 
him.)  But  several  good  men  had  a  hand  in  the 
celebration  none  the  less:  J.  K.  Paine  and 
Dudley  Buck  directed  their  own  compositions; 
Eben  Tourjee  led,  when  "  Nearer,  My  God,  to 
Thee  "  and  other  hymns  were  sung,  and  Julius 
Eichberg  wrote  for  this  occasion  his  tuneful 
"  To  Thee,  O  Country  "  which  has  since  be- 
come popular. 

The  most  marvellous  thing  about  the  whole 
Festival  was  that,  although  it  cost  $283,000  it 
paid  for  itself  and  showed  a  balance  of  nearly 
ten  thousand  dollars  on  the  right  side  of  the 
ledger!  This,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
real  cannon  with  artillery-men  to  set  them 
off  were  used  in  the  national  airs,  one  hundred 
red-shirted  firemen  were  drafted  to  bring  out 
the  staccato  parts  of  the  "  Anvil  Chorus,"  and 
all  the  professionals  were  paid  for  their  services. 
Mrs.  Abba  Goold  Woolson,  who  went  to  the 


298  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Festival  on  one  of  its  big  days,  sent  back  to  the 
Concord,  N.  H.,  Monitor  a  sprightly  account 
of  this  experience  by  means  of  which  all  who 
cared  to  might  go  with  her  "  into  the  big  tent." 
Here  are  some  bits  of  her  article: 

"  Keeping  fast  hold  of  our  checks,  we  walk 
down  the  broad,  empty  aisle  to  the  balcony's 
edge,  and  look  over  into  the  parquet.  What 
an  immense  expanse  of  people  and  benches 
spread  below  us;  what  a  vast,  lofty  roof  above,  J 
all  awave  with  gay  banners!  Up  there,  at  the 
right,  is  the  organ,  and  the  big  drum,  large  and 
thin,  towers  before  it  —  '  Let  Us  Have  Peace,' 
on  its  head  plainly  visible.  On  the  left  of  these 
sits  the  chorus  —  all  men ;  on  the  right,  a 
brighter  throng  —  the  women.  Faces  there 
are  indistinguishable,  of  course.  It  might 
be  called,  indeed,  a  sea  of  humanity.  .  .  .  Down 
again,  go  our  glances,  into  the  parquet.  How 
quietly  the  people  have  poured  in;  and  how 
small  they  look!  Among  them  all  we  noticed 
a  large  woman,  escorted  up  the  aisle.  Her 
shawl  of  pale  blue  crepe,  wrought  with  white 
flowers,  her  large  bonnet,  and  her  breadth 
of  shoulders  make  us  single  her  out  from 
the  throng.  She  turns  into  her  seat;  a 
glass  shows  the  ruddy  face  of  Mrs.  Harrison 
Gray  Otis,  the  city's  guest.  .  .  .  There  comes 
Gilmore  himself  forward  to  his  position.  How 
they  applaud  him!     One  glimpse  of  the  red 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  299 

rose  in  his  coat  and  his  energetic  bow,  and  he 
has  whisked  about  on  his  stand,  and  his  white 
gloves  and  baton  are  beating  the  air.  Here 
comes  the  music.  But  we  are  not  stunned.  No 
louder  than  that?  Now  it  bursts  out  strong 
enough.  Still  we  are  alive  and  still  able  to 
look  about  us  calmly  again  when  the  piece  is 
finished.  The  voices  are  full  and  rich  and 
strong,  but  blent  into  strange  softness,  like 
the  sound  from  the  myriad  waves  of  a  distant 
sea.  The  Judgment  Hymn  and  Janotti's  Grand 
March,  the  first  original  music  produced,  rouse 
us  more.    The  house  is  liberal  with  applause. 

"  But  now  everybody  begins  to  look  for 
Parepa.  She  seems  the  chief  attraction  of  the 
whole  festival.  They  say,  around  us,  that  she 
is  to  come  up  the  stairway,  behind  the  great 
drum.  All  are  watching.  The  applause  starts 
up,  there  is  a  gleam  of  yellow  silk,  and  the 
queenly  woman  appears,  following  her  escort 
down  through  the  narrow  aisles  to  Gilmore's 
stand.  At  every  step  the  enthusiastic  welcome 
grows  and  rolls  in  a  stormy  tide  to  her  feet. 
See,  the  conquering  singer  comes!  She  stands 
one  step  below  Mr.  Gilmore,  drops  her  bouquet, 
adjusts  her  music,  and  is  ready.  We  take  note 
of  the  gorgeous  yellow  tunic,  deeply  flounced 
with  black  lace,  the  light,  flowing  skirt,  and  her 
superb  physique,  and  noble  head  —  when  hark ! 
here  come  the  notes,  beginning  the  song  from 


300  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

'  Robert.'  We  wonder  that  we  can  hear 
them,  how  sweet,  how  soft,  how  clear,  yet,  too, 
how  far  off!  The  homage  is  wild  when  it  is 
through.  She  sails  out  behind  the  drum  again, 
in  spite  of  it  all,  but  it  is  of  no  use,  she  has  to 
return,  amid  greater  enthusiasm;  but  only  to 
bow,  she  will  not  sing. 

"  Now  that  Anvil  Chorus  is  to  come.  The 
red-shirted  firemen,  who  have  been  for  the 
last  half  hour  moving  up  and  down  the  aisles, 
are  all  in  their  places,  extending  back  on  each 
side  of  the  leader,  fifty  in  a  row.  The  music 
begins.  Their  hammers  are  held  in  air  ready, 
but  we  see  no  anvils.  Clang,  comes  the  stroke, 
Gilmore's  arms  swing  alternately  up  and  down, 
and  they  obey  them  instantly,  and  cease  in- 
stantly when  he  flings  them  back.  Crash,  the 
guns  thunder  over  our  heads.  How  it  starts 
us  all!  The  music  pours  out;  the  band,  drums, 
bells  and  the  chorus,  the  anvils  and  guns,  all 
rolling  multitudinously,  make  us  wild.  Hand- 
kerchiefs are  in  air,  waving  frantically.  Hands 
clap  and  feet  stamp,  and  canes  pound  the 
floor.  Still  the  billows  of  melody  roll  on.  It  is 
almost  too  much  to  bear.  We  shiver  as  with 
cold,  and  feel  like  bursting  into  a  torrent  of 
tears.  But  we  wink  them  back,  and  keep  on 
waving  fiercely.  Over  our  heads,  through  the 
roof  windows,  pours  the  sulphurous  smoke  from 
the  guns  outside,  and  the  roof  shakes  and  jars. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  301 

The  plaudits  are  still  more  tempestuous  when 
it  is  through.  The  proud  firemen  evidently 
think  themselves  the  chief  element  of  the  suc- 
cess, and  they  attract  all  eyes  from  their  pic- 
turesque look.  It  is  all  gone  over  again,  and 
the  audience  seem  to  wish  it  might  never 
cease.  .  .  .  Those  artillerymen  out  there  must 
be  kept  busy  loading  their  twelve  guns.  They 
are  two  hundred  feet  off;  yet  we  wish  they  were 
a  little  farther,  for  there  is  a  reverberation 
against  the  roof,  a  jar  of  the  building  which  is 
not  pleasant. 

"  When  the  national  song  is  concluded, 
another  storm  of  plaudits  sets  in,  like  that  after 
the  Anvil  Chorus.  All  of  us  are  insane  again, 
and  this  time  more  so.  We  can  scarcely  keep 
from  springing  upon  our  seats  and  cheering. 
The  men,  here  and  there,  do  throw  up  their 
hats,  and  all  break  into  an  audible  —  what  shall 
we  call  it?  —  not  a  cheer,  but  a  groan  of  delight 
that  runs  around  the  house.  What  a  proud 
moment  for  Parepa,  surely  the  proudest  in 
her  life.  As  this  is  her  last  song,  she  has  taken  a 
chair,  and  intends  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  with  us.  Now  she  is  bending  over, 
talking  to  her  husband,  Carl  Rosa,  who  sits 
among  the  violins  on  her  right.  Of  course 
she  has  to  rise  and  repeat,  and  now  her  last  note 
dies  away.  After  that  Arbuckle's  trumpet,  and 
she  applauded  him  heartily  with  her  white  kids. 


302  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

"  '  The  Harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls  ' 
is  sung  by  everybody  and  everything  there,  and 
is  unspeakably  sweet  and  satisfying.  We  hope 
the  soul  of  Tom  Moore  is  present  to  hear.  But 
the  audience  are  now  tired  of  applauding.  We 
all  rise,  as  requested,  at  the  last,  for  the  Hun- 
dredth Psalm,  but  nobody  seems  to  sing;  all 
want  to  hear  the  chorus. 

"  Then  comes  the  end.  Every  note  has  died 
away  along  the  pennoned  rafters,  and  the 
breezes  only  are  swaying  the  sunlit  ban- 
ners. .  .  ." 

The  second  Jubilee,  held  in  June,  1872,  was 
to  celebrate  the  World's  Peace,  —  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War  being  then  just  over  —  and  the 
thing  "  featured  "  was  the  band-work  of  various 
European  nations.  On  this  occasion  Strauss, 
the  composer,  conducted  his  own  waltzes  and 
Madame  Rudersdorf ,  a  splendid  singer  of  broad, 
classic,  oratorio  style,  sang  a  number  of  solos. 
This  Peace  Jubilee  did  not  pay  but  left  a  financial 
deficit  which  the  sturdy  Boston  guarantors 
promptly  made  up  with  such  grace  as  they  could 
command. 

I  have  said  that  Jenny  Lind  gave  away  nearly 
all  the  money  that  she  earned  while  in  America. 
One  favorite  form  of  giving  with  her  was 
towards  the  musical  education  of  young  girls 
who  had  talent.  Among  the  beneficiaries  of  her 
kind   heart    was   Adelaide   Phillips,   who   had 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  303 

already  been  doing  things  in  a  singing  way 
on  the  Museum  stage  for  some  years  but  who 
was  desirous  of  pursuing  her  musical  studies 
further  and  whom  Jenny  Lind  graciously  fitted 
out  with  a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars  and  a 
letter  of  warm  recommendation  to  her  own 
instructor,  Emanuel  Garcia.  j 

Additional  help  being  given  to  Miss  Phillips 
by  that  "  grand,  upright  and  square  "  man, 
Jonas  Chickering,  she  left  home  (in  1852)  with 
her  father  for  England,  where  for  two  years  she 
studied  with  Garcia,  a  brother  of  the  immortal 
Malibran,  and  possessed,  like  his  sister,  of  much 
magnetism  and  power.  Before  returning  to  the 
great  success  which  awaited  her  in  Boston  Miss 
Phillips  had  a  triumphal  season  in  Italy,  her 
wonderful  voice,  sympathetic  acting  and  charm- 
ing presence  uniting  to  bring  her  great  applause 
wherever  she  was  heard.  But  by  1855  she  was 
back  in  her  home  city  and,  the  following  spring, 
she  appeared  with  great  success  in  Italian  opera 
in  Philadelphia  and  in  New  York.  Her  great 
role  at  this  time  was  as  Azucena  in  "  II  Trova- 
tore,"  then  a  new  opera,  in  which  Mile.  Fillippi, 
as  she  was  called,  was  obliged  to  create  the  part. 
She  made  this  gypsy  mother  a  tragic  heroine, 
just  as  Charlotte  Cushman  did  with  Meg 
Merrilies,  and  her  rendering  of  the  character 
has  remained  the  standard  ever  since. 

In  oratorio  Miss  Phillips  was  no  less  successful 


304  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

than  on  the  lyric  stage.  That  was  a  great 
occasion  when,  on  December  30,  1860,  she  made 
her  first  appearance  before  the  Boston  Handel 
and  Haydn  Society  in  the  Messiah.  "  Her 
rendering  of  the  impressive  Aria,  '  He  was 
despised,'  came  not  only  with  artistic  power 
but  from  a  devotional  nature."  Miss  Phillips' 
last  appearance  with  the  Handel  and  Haydn 
Society  was  on  November  24,  1878.  She  then 
sang,  very  appropriately,  as  it  turned  out, 
Verdi's  "  Requiem  Mass."  Two  years  later, 
she  purchased  the  farm  in  Marshfield  with 
which  her  name  is  now  so  touchingly  associated 
and  there,  in  1882,  she  died,  after  a  long  struggle 
—  against  ill  health  —  to  keep  up  her  work 
in  the  Ideal  Opera  Company,  of  which  she  was 
an  important  member.  Like  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  with  whom  her  career  has  several  parallels, 
she  was  buried  from  King's  Chapel,  all  Boston 
agreeing  that  "  her  private  life  was  as  pure  and 
blameless  as  her  works  were  grand  and  en- 
nobling." 

Ole  Bull,  whose  widow,  a  charming  American, 
long  made  her  home  in  Cambridge,  was  a  very 
gifted  violinist  and  a  highly  picturesque  figure. 
Even  in  his  old  age  his  hair  was  heavy  and 
long,  and  when  he  had  finished  playing  it 
was  always  in  artistic  disarray.  He  was  born 
in  Bergen,  Norway,  just  a  hundred  years  ago, 
and  he  died,  at  the  summer  residence  he  had 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  305 

there  set  up,  at  the  ripe  age  of  seventy.  Ole 
Bull  seems  to  have  possessed  one  quality  very 
rare  among  musicians,  —  real  delight  in  giving 
pleasure  through  his  art.  "  It  was  not  neces- 
sary," records  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields,  "  when 
he  was  to  give  his  friends  the  favor  of  a  visit, 
to  suggest  that  he  should  bring  his  violin.  He 
never  failed  to  remember  that  he  could  find 
his  fullest  expression  through  that  medium  and 
when  the  proper  moment  arrived  was  always 
ready  to  contribute  his  large  share  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  time.  There  was  a  generosity 
about  bestowing  himself  in  private  for  others 
which  was  delightful.  He  was  proud  to  give 
what  he  possessed.  His  friends  cannot  forget 
his  manner  of  going  and  standing  with  his  violin 
in  the  corner  of  the  library,  where,  drawing  up 
his  fine  figure  to  its  full  height  and  throwing 
back  his  head,  he  would  stand  silent  until  he 
was  prompted  to  begin."  It  has  been  said  in  all 
seriousness  that  it  was  an  impossibility  for 
"  the  heroic  Bull  "  to  sit  down  and  play. 


CHAPTER  X 

SOCIAL    QUEENS    AND    THE    WORLD    THEY    RULED 

IT  is  a  striking  coincidence  that  three  wives 
of  Boston  Otises  should  have  been  social 
queens  in  the  real  meaning  of  that  word. 
The  first  Mrs.  Harrison  Gray  Otis,  who  was 
described  and  pictured  in  the  book  preceding 
this  one  *  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the 
republican  court  circles  of  her  day  as  well  as  in 
Boston;  for  her  husband  succeeded  Fisher 
Ames  in  Congress  twenty  years  before  he  took  up 
his  duties  as  second  Mayor  of  Boston.  By  the 
time  Mr.  Otis  came  to  occupy  the  Boston 
position,  indeed,  his  wife  was  in  rather  poor 
health,  so  that  it  was  upon  his  young  daughter- 
in-law,  who  had  been  born  Emily  Marshall, 
and  had  married  his  son,  William  Foster  Otis, 
that  the  social  duties  of  his  home  devolved. 
Of  her  charm  and  exquisite  beauty  mention 
was  made  in  the  earlier  pages  of  the  present 
volume.     She  died  in  the  summer  of  1836. 

Then,    speedily,    another    Mrs.    Otis,    born 
Elizabeth    Boardman,    came    to    the    front    in 

1  See  Old  Boston  Days  and  Ways,  p.  402. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  307 

Boston  society.  This  young  woman  had  been 
a  famous  beauty  and  belle  even  before  she 
married  the  young  son  and  namesake  of  the 
then  Mayor  of  Boston.  She  had  received  the 
most  careful  education  and  the  finest  culture 
that  the  best  masters  could  give,  and  she  had 
had  the  advantage  of  life  in  one  of  those  Boston 
homes  made  luxurious  and  beautiful  by  the 
East  India  trade.  So  though  the  Otis  family 
stood  among  the  highest  in  the  land,  it  hon- 
ored itself  by  an  alliance  with  Elizabeth  Board- 
man. 

Very  early  she  was  left  a  widow.  And  she 
seems  for  a  time  to  have  fulfilled  the  lively 
traditions  of  that  state.  According  to  the 
gossips  of  the  day  she  numbered  among  her 
admirers  men  like  Daniel  Webster  and  Henry 
Clay  as  well  as  many  others  of  less  renown. 

Samuel  Breck,  who  was  in  Mrs.  Otis's  own 
set,  by  birth,  appears  not  to  have  approved  of 
her  at  all.  One  finds  among  his  notes  (April 
12,  1832)  this  reference  to  her:  "This  lady,  a 
widow  and  mother  of  five  children  and  already 
of  a  certain  age,  has  been  displaying  and  flirting 
during  the  winter  in  Philadelphia  and  Wash- 
ington, giving  the  tone  and  assuming  the  lead. 
At  Mrs.  Lloyd's  (Breck's  Philadelphia  sister) 
she  found  fault  with  the  rooms;  they  were  too 
small;  she  must  have  spacious  parlors;  her 
friends  in  Boston  told  her  she  must  go  home 


308  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

and  build,  and  when  she  does  broad  and  lofty- 
rooms  will  gratify  her  vanity. 

"  This  lady-traveller,"  continues  Breck  tartly, 
"  inherited  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  from  her  father,  and  is,  for  the 
rest,  a  light-hearted  woman,  not  destitute  of 
wit  and  smartness,  and  has  been  much  attended 
to  by  the  fashionable  circles  of  our  city.  She 
is  a  little  of  a  virago,  too.  It  is  said  that  in 
Boston  she  frequently  visited  on  foot  in  the 
evening,  always  trusting  to  an  Irish  servant  for 
protection  on  her  return  home,  and  of  course 
declining  the  escort  of  the  beaux  who  offered 
their  services.  Some  of  these  were  miffed  at 
her  refusal,  and  one  evening  waylaid  her  and 
her  Irish  squire  in  order  to  frighten  them. 
She,  seeing  a  man  approach  saucily,  turned  to 
the  servant.  '  John,'  said  she,  c  knock  that 
man  down; '  upon  which  John  knocked  him 
down.  This  rough  hint  left  her  ever  after  un- 
molested." 1 

Boston  at  this  time  was  much  too  petty  a 
place  to  suit  Mrs.  Otis,  it  is  clear.  She  must 
have  been  very  glad  to  sail  off  to  Europe,  in 
1835,  and  busy  herself  there  with  the  education 
of  her  young  sons  and  with  her  own  further 
development  along  congenial  lines.  She  was 
absent  for  about  five  years  and  when  she  came 
back,  thrilling  in  every  nerve  with  the  joy  of 

1  Recollections  of  Samuel  Breck,  p.  285. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  309 

life  and  with  desire  to  make  herself  felt  in  her 
native  city,  she  found  that  she  had  quite  a  task 
ahead  of  her.  For  the  social  machinery  of  the 
time  was  exceedingly  ponderous.  And  Boston 
loved  its  own  limitations. 

An  Englishman  who  was  a  resident  in  the 
town  just  before  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century  has  declared  that  everything  essential 
to  the  most  agreeable  society  existed  there 
"  with  one  exception  and  that  is  the  spirit  of 
sociability."  Eating  was  the  chief  business  of 
all  gatherings,  and  Charles  Dickens,  who  was 
here  in  1842,  observed,  with  thinly-veiled  dis- 
gust, that  at  every  dinner  there  was  an  enormous 
amount  of  poultry  on  the  table  "  and  at  every 
supper,  at  least  two  mighty  bowls  of  hot  stewed 
oysters,  in  any  one  of  which  a  half  grown  Duke 
of  Clarence  might  be  smothered  easily." 

The  Boston  notion  of  cordial  hospitality,  in 
the  forties,  seems  to  have  been  inviting  the 
stranger  within  their  gates  to  occupy  a  place 
in  the  family  pew  at  church.  "  I  am  afraid  to 
say,"  says  Dickens,  "  how  many  offers  of  pews 
and  seats  in  church  were  made  to  us  by 
formal  notes  of  invitation  that  morning  of  my 
arrival  (which  was  on  Sunday)  .  .  .  but  at 
least  as  many  sittings  as  would  have  accom- 
modated a  score  or  two  of  grown  up  families!  " 
Not  that  Bostonians  did  not  know  how  to  be 
excellent  hosts,  when  the  spirit  moved,  or  were 


310  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

blind  to  the  lack  of  true  hospitality  when  it 
exhibited  itself  in  others.  Mrs.  Julia  Ward 
Howe  in  her  delightfully  written  Reminis- 
cences tells  with  sufficient  point  of  the  enter- 
tainment she  and  her  husband  received  at  the 
hands  of  the  poet  Wordsworth.  After  their 
letter  of  introduction  had  been  presented  a 
note  came  inviting  them  to  take  tea  with  the 
poet  and  his  family  that  evening.  When  they 
arrived,  however,  the  sole  topic  of  conversation 
was  a  money  loss  the  Wordsworths  had  recently 
sustained  by  an  investment  in  American  secur- 
ities, —  and  the  tea  to  which  they  had  been 
bidden  proved  to  be  merely  a  cup  of  tea  served 
without  a  table.  Yet  even  this  meagre  hos- 
pitality was  lavish  in  comparison  with  that  of 
the  Bostonian  who,  in  return  for  the  cordial 
entertainment  that  had  been  offered  him  and  his 
while  in  Europe  invited  his  former  hostess  to 
call  at  his  house  on  a  Sunday  evening  after  tea, 
at  which  time  his  wife  and  himself  would  go 
with  her  to  church  and  give  her  a  place  in  their 
pew! 

It  was  such  a  society  as  this  that  Mrs.  Harri- 
son Gray  Otis  attempted  to  humanize  when, 
with  European  salons  in  mind,  she  threw  her 
house  open  every  Saturday  afternoon  and  every 
Thursday  evening  to  all  her  set  —  and  many 
more.  The  stirring  philanthropic  interests  of 
the  day  she  embraced  with  ardor,  and  she  soon 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  311 

proved  that,  where  people  of  congenial  tastes 
and  real  mental  alertness  are  met  together, 
there  can  be  true  hospitality  on  slender  physical 
nutriment.  For  the  "  mighty  bowls  of  hot 
stewed  oysters  "  she  substituted  tea  and  cakes. 
And  she  even  served  "  this  and  nothing  more  "  at 
her  home  at  the  corner  of  Mt.  Vernon  and  Joy 
Streets,  during  the  week  when  she  kept  open 
house  in  celebration  of  the  opening  of  the  Boston 
and  Montreal  road  and  had  President  Fillmore 
and  Lord  Elgin  among  her  guests!  Mrs.  Otis 
dared  to  be  herself  —  always. 

When  the  spirit  moved  she  even  ventured  to 
write  a  book,  thus  blandly  disregarding  those 
who  would  place  all  literary  women  beyond  the 
pale.  The  Barclays  of  Boston  is  interesting 
reading  by  reason  of  its  reflection  of  the  social 
theories  of  its  author.  "  From  the  first  days 
of  their  marriage,"  it  declares,  "  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Barclay  were  always  at  home  in  the  evening, 
cheerful  and  happy,  and  delighted  to  see  pleasant 
faces  around  them.  This  being  perfectly  under- 
stood, and  also,  from  its  great  rarity,  extremely 
appreciated,  there  was  no  lack  of  visitors.  In- 
deed, no  one  can  exaggerate  the  value  of  such 
a  house  as  theirs  had  always  been  in  a  com- 
munity where  so  few  are  opened  in  the  same 
way.  They  conferred  a  great  social  blessing  on 
many  who,  having  no  ties  of  kindred,  looked 
upon  their  fireside  as  an  oasis  in  the  desert; 


312  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

their  house  was,  also,  a  resource  for  strangers; 
they  received  all  the  nobilities  who  passed 
through  the  city,  and  thereby  derived  a  very 
signal  advantage  from  foreign  intercourse,  which 
does  a  vast  deal,  in  America,  toward  rubbing 
off  the  dust  collected  by  describing,  diurnally, 
the  same  circle  of  opinions  and  feelings. 

"  Everything  was  in  daily  use  in  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay's home;  she  had  no  one  article  of  table 
equipage  that  was  better  than  another,  and 
this  saved  a  world  of  trouble,  time  and  temper, 
the  two  latter  of  dominant  importance  in  all 
households;  for,  if  there  is  a  bit  of  porcelain 
that  excels  another,, it  is  sure  never  to  be  forth- 
coming, in  an  American  establishment,  when  it 
is  most  required.  Her  dinners  were  excellent, 
and  served  unpretendingly,  she  having  no 
desire  to  ape  foreign  fashions  with  a  few  serv- 
ants, and  to  adopt  the  affectation  of  forcing 
three  waiters  to  perform  the  service  of  thirty. 
If  any  shortcomings  occurred,  they  were  never 
perceived,  or  commented  upon,  simply  because 
there  was  no  ostentatious  pretension. 

"  Mr.  Barclay,  being  eminently  hospitable, 
invited  his  friends  freely;  his  wife  gave  them  a 
gracious  welcome,  and  he  a  hearty  one;  and 
their  guests  were  not  confined  to  the  prosperous 
and  those  who  revelled  in  luxuries,  but  em- 
braced poor  scholars,  artists,  and  others,  to 
whom    a   well-appointed    repast   was    a    boon 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  313 

indeed,  and  the  charm  of  social  intercourse  a 
greater  one  still." 

It  was,  however,  in  the  sanitary  commission 
work  of  the  Civil  War  period  that  Madame  Otis, 
as  she  came  to  be  called,  contributed  what  was 
perhaps  the  greatest  service  of  her  life.  But 
here  again  she  did  things  in  her  own  way 
regardless  of  what  "  society  "  might  say.  For 
when  there  was  a  chance  to  make  five  dollars 
for  the  Northern  cause  by  selling  a  kiss  to  a 
sailor  she  sold  the  kiss.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  war  she  had  been  asked  to  take  charge  of  the 
Evans  House,  which  had  been  turned  over  to 
the  city  of  Boston  for  the  soldiers'  use,  and  she 
did  this,  as  she  did  everything,  with  marked 
executive  ability.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars  passed  through  her  hands  and  she 
herself  gave  $50,000,  as  well  as  all  her  time,  to 
this  fund  for  the  soldiers.  It  is  said  that  she 
never  missed  a  day  at  her  post  throughout  the 
war,  never  bought  a  new  gown  during  that 
period  and  usually  walked  to  the  office  to  save 
cab  hire.  It  was  she,  too,  who,  by  opening  her 
house  for  a  public  reception  each  Washington's 
Birthday,  drew  public  attention  to  the  desira- 
bility of  making  that  day  a  national  holiday. 
The  honoring  of  Washington  particularly  ap- 
pealed to  her  and  she  worked  for  it  in  many 
ways.  She  helped  secure  funds  for  the  purchase 
of  Thomas  Ball's  equestrian  statue  of  Washing- 


314  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

ton;  *  and  for  the  purchase  of  Washington's 
tomb  at  Mt.  Vernon  she  gave  a  ball  at  the 
Boston  Theatre,  on  March  4,  1859,  which  is 
chronicled  as  being  "  more  splendid  in  its  array 
of  fair  women  and  brave  men,  and  nobler  in  its 
purpose  than  anything  which  has  ever  preceded 
it."    This  affair  netted  ten  thousand  dollars. 

It  was  for  the  Boston  Theatre  ball  of  a  year 
later,  —  that  given  in  1860  to  the  then  Prince 
of  Wales,  the  late  Edward  VII  of  England,  — 
that  Mrs.  Otis's  mantua-makers  designed  for 
her  the  famous  gown  of  old  lace  and  purple 
velvet  shown  in  the  life-size  portrait  of  her  by 
George  P.  A.  Healy  herewith  reproduced. 

The  first  waltz  ever  danced  on  an  American 
floor  had  for  its  participants  Mrs.  Harrison 
Gray  Otis  and  Lorenzo  Papanti.  Since  the 
annals  of  Boston  society  were  for  years  bound 
up  with  the  dancing  academy  of  the  Papantis, 
—  father  and  son,  —  we  may  well  enough  pause 
here  to  consider  this  man's  romantic  career. 
Scion  of  a  noble  house  of  Colonna,  Lorenzo 
Papanti,  because  a  younger  son,  became  an 
officer  in  the  royal  guard  of  the  Duke  of  Tus- 
cany as  a  means  to  making  his  own  way  in 
the  world.  While  in  this  capacity  he  com- 
mitted a  political  misdemeanor  which  soon 
obliged  him  to  flee  his  native  land  in  the  night. 

1  Characterized  by  Wendell  Phillips  as  a  "riding-master  on  a 
really  good  horse,  heroically  staring  up  Commonwealth  Avenue." 


MRS.    HARRISON    GRAY   OTIS. 

From  the  painting  by  O.  P.  A.  Healy,  in  the  possession  of  the 
Bostonian  Society. 


MRS.    JULIA    WARD    HOWE. 

From  the  bust  by  Clevenger,  in  the  possession  of  the  Howe  family. 
Page  310. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  315 

With  barely  time  to  get  letters  of  introduction 
and  to  take  clothing,  —  in  which  he  did  not 
fail  to  include  his  full  court  regalia,  however,  — 
he  made  his  way  to  the  old  frigate  Ironsides,  the 
officers  of  which,  knowing  his  story,  took  him 
aboard  as  a  member  of  their  band.  In  Boston 
he  presented  his  letters  and  for  a  time  eked  out 
a  scanty  livelihood  playing  in  the  orchestra  of 
the  Boston  Theatre.  Then,  with  the  help  of  his 
society  friends,  he  founded  Papanti's  dancing 
academy.  For  a  long  term  of  years  the  little 
assembly  room  at  23  Tremont  Street,  opposite 
the  old  Boston  Museum,  was  the  scene  of  many 
juvenile  trials  and  youthful  triumphs.  For 
there  the  two  Papantis,  father  and  son,  succes- 
sively taught  little  slippered  feet  to  glide  and 
not  stumble,  and  awkward  but  well-meaning 
Boston  youths  how  to  bear  themselves  with 
courtly  grace.  Hundreds  of  memories  centre 
about  the  tall  spare  man  who  there  called  out 
his  directions  over  his  violin  bow  and  who 
was  never  visible  save  in  the  impressive  elegance 
of  a  dress  coat  and  a  well-fitting  curly  wig. 

But  though  Papanti  was  teaching  Boston's 
young  people  to  dance,  social  life  was  still  very 
simple  in  the  quaint  old  city.  Few  people  went 
away  in  summer,  previous  to  1850,  and  those 
who  did  strayed  not  further  than  Nahant, 
which  Tom  Appleton  had  wittily  dubbed 
"  cold  roast  Boston."     Many  parts  of  Boston 


316  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

were  still  green  with  gardens,  and  in  the 
softly  cool  evenings  of  September  people  sat 
on  their  front  door-steps  after  the  early  tea 
necessitated  by  the  one  o'clock  dinner  and 
perhaps  sang  together  to  the  accompaniment  of 
a  guitar.  On  "  the  Fourth  "  the  leading  women 
of  the  city  stood  on  their  own  house-balconies 
and  enjoyed  the  floral  processions  directed  by 
Rev.  Charles  Barnard  of  what  was  then  the 
Warren  Street  Chapel.  Life  was  simple  for  the 
most  part.  Girls  walked  to  parties  in  couples 
and  young  men  "  saw  them  home."  This  was 
not  a  lengthy  or  involved  process.  For  Boston 
was  a  city  every  part  of  which  was  then  within 
ten  minutes  of  every  other  part. 

Arlington  Street  was  considered  "  very  far 
out."  Even  as  late  as  1860  everything  relating 
to  the  Back  Bay  was  so  new  that,  for  a  long 
time,  Dr.  Gannett's  church,  just  beyond  the 
Public  Garden,  was  referred  to  as  "  the  Federal 
Street  Society's  new  edifice."  It  was  in  one 
of  the  grand  mansions  on  Arlington  Street 
that  a  reception  was  held  one  evening  for 
Fanny  Kemble,  to  which  Mrs.  Stowe  went  in 
the  simple  little  black  gown  which  she  had  worn 
on  a  train- journey  made  for  the  purpose  of 
spending  the  day  with  her  friend,  Mrs.  Fields. 
Mrs.  Kemble  was  in  an  elaborate  costume  of 
purple  and  silver  brocade,  but  Mrs.  Stowe's 
black  stuff  gown  passed  in  the  crowd  all  right. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  317 

Which  would  seem  to  prove  that  such  things 
occasionally  happened. 

Mrs.  George  Ticknor  ruled  as  a  "  social 
queen  "  in  the  famous  house  at  the  head  of 
Park  Street  at  which  Lafayette  had  stayed  in 
1824.  Mrs.  Kate  Gannett  Wells,  who  herself 
shared  in  the  gracious  hospitality  exercised 
in  this  hospitable  mansion  by  the  wife  of  the 
Spanish  historian,  declares  that  the  one  Boston 
woman  —  with  the  exception  of  Emily  Marshall 
—  upon  whom  the  appellation  of  social  queen 
may  rightly  be  bestowed  is  Mrs.  Ticknor. 
"  From  the  beginning  of  her  married  life  until 
her  death  she  was  a  queen.  There  was  only 
one  Mrs.  Ticknor,  by  implication,  and  greatly 
honored  were  those  who  had  access  to  her 
house,  —  to  the  parlor  and  to  the  library 
upstairs,  the  throne  room  as  it  were.  There 
she  and  Mr.  Ticknor  received  nightly.  About 
half-past  nine  the  waiter  brought  in  a  tray  of 
cakes  and  ices,  sometimes  cakes  only.  The 
nobility  and  the  scholars  of  Europe  met  there 
as  nowhere  else.  Prescott,  Motley,  G.  S.  Hillard 
were  often  to  be  seen.  I  have  never  seen  any 
society  equal  to  what  was  there,  quiet  cordiality 
shading  off  into  degrees  of  welcome,  high-bred 
courtesy  in  discussion  and  courtly  grace  of 
movement.  Politics  were  discussed,  never  scan- 
dal. The  basis  of  life  was  character  and  litera- 
ture, its  usage  was  good  English  and  deferential 


318  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

manners.  As  years  passed  on  the  daughter, 
Anna,  founded  (in  1873)  the  '  Society  To  En- 
courage Study  at  Home,'  which  was  all  done  by 
correspondence.  It  was  study  at  home  for 
home.  No  one  ever  posed  or  worked  for  a 
career.  Mrs.  Ticknor  was  actively  interested 
in  the  health  of  the  students  and  it  was 
all  wonderful  and  graceful.  But  the  annual 
meetings  at  her  house  were  never  held  in 
the  library.  That  was  for  the  intimate  circle 
of  the  elect." 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Howe  —  who  in  1844  had 
gone  with  her  husband,  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley 
Howe,  to  live  in  the  vicinity  of  the  institution 
the  noble  doctor  was  carrying  on  in  South 
Boston  for  the  education  of  the  blind  —  took 
up  a  Boston  residence  she,  too,  by  virtue  of 
her  wit  and  charm  became  a  "  social  queen," 
a  distinction  which  she  continued  to  enjoy  until 
the  end  of  her  long  life.  The  few  who  were 
really  her  intellectual  kindred  had,  of  course, 
journeyed  faithfully  to  South  Boston  to 
see  her.  None  the  less,  she  discovered 
and  wittily  remarked  that  "  in  Boston  Love 
crosses  a  bridge  but  Friendship  stops  at  the 
Common."  When  there  was  no  longer  a  bridge 
to  cross  Mrs.  Howe's  drawing-room,  at  13 
Chestnut  Street,  became  a  favorite  gather- 
ing-place for  choice  varieties  of  the  genus 
Bostonian.     It  was  while  living  here — though 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  319 

she  was  in  Washington  and  not  Boston  at 
the  time  —  that  Mrs.  Howe  wrote  her  "  Battle 
Hymn." 

This  house  must  always  be  chiefly  associated, 
however,  with  Mrs.  John  T.  Sargent  and  her 
assembly  of  Transcendentalists.  Charles 
Lamb's  remark  about  the  fat  woman  seated  in 
the  doorway  that  "  it  was  a  shrewd  zephyr 
that  could  escape  her  "  had  its  application  to 
the  person  of  distinction  who  could  get  in  — 
and  out  —  of  Boston  without  going  to  the 
Radical  Club.  Not  that  Mrs.  Sargent  per- 
secuted her  lions  or  tracked  them  worryingly  to 
their  lairs.  Instead  she  made  her  house  on  the 
Monday  when  the  Radical  Club  was  meeting 
there  a  resort  so  intellectually  stimulating  that 
no  one  wished  to  escape.  The  Radical  Club 
had  its  origin  in  the  spring  of  the  year  '67  in 
the  growing  desire  of  certain  ministers  and  lay- 
men for  larger  liberty  of  faith,  fellowship  and 
communion.  It  had  no  formal  organization 
and  its  members  represented  all  religious  de- 
nominations. The  Club's  first  meeting  was  held 
at  17  Chestnut  Street,  the  residence  of  Rev. 
Cyrus  Bartol,  and  for  a  time  it  oscillated  between 
that  number  and  thirteen.  But  it  never  went 
outside  of  Chestnut  Street  and  it  soon  came  to 
regard  the  roomy  parlor  of  Mrs.  Sargent's 
home  as  its  permanent  headquarters.  Then 
it    grew   in   fame   and   numbers   until    at    its 


320  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

closing  session  in  1880,  *  nearly   two  hundred 
were  present. 

A  journalist  once  remarked  that  the  primary 
distinction  of  this  club  was  that  it  survived 
for  years  without  a  kitchen.  In  other  words  it 
had  a  real  reason  for  being.  But  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say  how  much  of  its  success  the  club 
owed  to  Mrs.  Sargent  and  to  the  gentle  stimulus 
of  the  home  in  which  it  met.  One  habitue 
has  spoken  of  the  beautiful  old  harp  in  the 
corner  of  the  spacious  parlors  and,  on  the 
wall,  the  life-size  picture  of  Mr.  Sargent's 
mother  playing  upon  it;  of  the  Gobelin  tapestry 
and  other  famous  relics  of  Paris's  splendor  and 
sorrow  during  the  sad  days  of  1789.  All  the 
furnishings  of  the  old  parlors  came  originally 
from  the  Tuileries  and  were  sent  over  by  Col. 
James  Swan,  an  ancestor  of  the  Sargents, 
and  the  close  friend  and  financial  agent  of  the 
nobility  and  royalty  in  France.  Two  ships 
were  loaded  with  these  furnishings  the  purpose 
in  sending  them  being  to  equip  suitable  dwelling 
places  in  America  for  many  of  the  nobility  who 
were  to  escape  from  France  and  take  temporary 
harbor  here.  The  plan  miscarried  and  the  con- 
tents of  the  first  ship  found  their  way,  long  after- 
wards, to  the  parlor  of  the  house  on  Chestnut 
Street. 

1  Mrs.  Sargent  died  at  the  New  York  residence  of  her  son,  Frank- 
lin Haven  Sargent,  May  31,  1904,  aged  77. 


PARLOR    AT     13     CHESTNUT    STREET    IN    WHICH    THE      RADICAL 
CLUB    MET. 


MRS.     JOHN    T.     SARGENT,     LEADING    SPIRIT     OF    THE    RADICAL 
CLUB 

From  a  photograph  in  the  possession  of  Franklin  Haven  Sargent, 
New  York. 


OLD    ELM,    BOSTON    COMMON. 
Page  355. 


THE   BACK  BAY  FROM  THE   PUBLIC  GARDEN,    1860. 


6NUU 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  321 

There  they  formed  the  background  for  the 
most    extraordinary    gatherings    ever    held    in 
an  American  city.     Merely  to  name  those  who 
read  papers,  contributed  to  the  discussion  or 
sat  quietly  listening  during  the  sessions  of  the 
Radical  Club  would  be  to  call  again  the  roll  of 
the  New  England  intellectuals.    Emerson,  who 
was  quite  a  regular  attendant  at  the  beginning 
of  the  club's  career,  stopped  going  as  soon  as 
the  meetings  were  opened  to  the  press  because 
he   had   an   unconquerable   aversion   to   being 
reported.    He  never  could  be  brought  to  believe 
that  interest  had  anything  to  do  with  the  desire 
to  know  of  the  deliberations  of  the  club;  he  set 
it   all   down   to   an   improper   curiosity   which 
ought  to  be  snubbed  instead  of  humored.    But 
those  who  were  then  reporters   became  later 
very  distinguished  in  literature.    Louise  Chan- 
dler Moulton,   whose  brilliant  accounts  of  the 
club's  activities,   published  in  the  New   York 
Tribune,  did  much  to  increase  its  fame  and 
influence,  Nora  Perry,  Grace  Greenwood,  Frank 
Sanborn,  Samuel  Bowles  and  Kate  Field,  all  of 
whom  helped  the  public  to  understand  what 
the  club  was  about.     Frank  Sanborn's  address 
on  the  very  modern  subject  of  the  newspaper 
is  delightful  reading  as  sketched  in  Mrs.  Sar- 
gent's little  volume,  Reminiscences  of  the  Radi- 
cal Club.    Mostly,  however,  the  topics  discussed 
were  much  more  abstruse  than  this. 


322  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

In  1873  the  club  gave  a  reception  for  Emerson 
and  around  the  bright  wood  fire  were  gathered, 
among  others,  Whittier,  Longfellow,  Wendell 
Phillips,  and  the  elder  Henry  James.  Occasion- 
ally a  big  memorial  festival  would  be  held  at 
the  club,  as  on  the  occasion  when  Carl  Schurz, 
Longfellow,  James  Freeman  Clarke  and  many 
more  assembled  at  a  meeting  in  honor  of 
Charles  Sumner  who  had  just  passed  away. 
Many  eloquent  and  incisive  things  were  said; 
but  it  is  Whittier's  quaint  remark  that  gets 
quoted  in  connection  with  the  affair,  for,  upon 
being  asked  to  add  his  tribute  he  replied  that 
he  had  no  skill  in  speaking  and  that  the  idea 
of  saying  anything  after  all  those  delightful 
reminiscences  reminded  him  of  the  dying  peti- 
tion of  the  captain  of  the  Dumfries  rifles, 
"  Don't  let  the  awkward  squad  fire  a  salute  over 
my  grave." 

Even  when  the  club  was  not  in  session  choice 
spirits  assembled  in  these  famous  old  parlors. 
Franklin  Haven  Sargent  of  New  York  has  told 
me  of  his  boyish  memories  of  those  childnood 
days  when  everybody  of  distinction  in  the  world 
of  art  and  literature  sought  out  his  sweet 
mother  in  her  Chestnut  Street  home :  "  the 
Longfellow  brothers,  so  quiet  and  gentle;  Walt 
Whitman  with  his  shaggy  hair  and  ruddy 
face,  who  called  me,  as  did  Charlotte  Cushman, 
8  the   young    Greek.'     Miss    Cushman   was   a 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  323 

great  friend  of  my  mother's.  I  remember  her 
as  a  devoted  whist  player  and  tiring  to  me 
because  I  had  to  wait  while  she  and  my  parents 
and  William  I.  Bowditch  played  cards  evenings. 

"  Kate  Field,  —  strong-minded,  —  I  liked  be- 
cause she  was  of  the  theatre;  Anna  Dickinson, 
so  awfully  herself  and  badly  dressed,  a  great 
chum  of  my  father's;  John  Weiss,  the  nearest 
to  genius  of  them  all  except  —  Emerson  —  so 
abstract  yet  human,  sweet  and  deep.  The  sight 
of  his  regularly  failing  memory  and  faculties 
was  painful.  Colonel  Higginson,  gentleman 
and  rhetorician,  par  excellence;  my  father,  of  the 
good  old  school,  above  all  the  gentleman;  Mary 
Mapes  Dodge,  my  mother's  closest  friend, 
brimming  over  with  human  nature  and  jokes. 
.  .  .  One  night,  to  my  mother's  dismay,  the 
Chinese  professor  at  Harvard  stayed,  after  the 
others  had  gone,  until  2  a.  m.  ;  finally,  in  des- 
peration, she  offered  him  a  cup  of  tea  —  and 
one  sip  and  he  was  gone  —  the  Chinese  con- 
vention. — ...  And  more  than  anyone  else  I 
remember  Wendell  Phillips,  my  father's  dearest 
friend,  a  wonderful  orator  and  talker  whom 
I  revered  for  the  martyrdom  he  had  been 
through,  a  fanatic,  but  the  most  honest  man  I 
ever  knew." 

Such  were  some  of  those  whom  Mrs.  Sargent 
drew  about  her  fireside  at  13  Chestnut  Street. 
Certainly,  she  deserves  a  place  among  the  social 


324  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

queens  of  the  period.  For  she  was  the  only 
woman  who  succeeded,  during  the  most  brilliant 
phase  of  Boston's  life,  in  bringing  together  and 
holding  its  picked  representatives  of  both  sexes. 
And  this  she  seems  to  have  accomplished  not 
so  much  by  the  possession  of  a  brilliant  mind  as 
by  virtue  of  that  far  greater  gift,  a  warm  and 
loving  woman-heart. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   OLD    TIME    HOSTELRIES   AND    THEIR    STAGES 

IN  the  early  days  of  New  England  l  the 
tavern  or  "  ordinary,"  was  very  closely 
connected  with  the  meeting-house.  At 
the  time  this  relation  was  a  necessary  one,  for 
it  was  only  by  thawing  out  at  a  tavern,  before 
and  after  church,  that  human  nature  could  pre- 
pare for  and  recover  from  the  long  dry  sermons 
given  in  an  unheated  meeting-house.  Was  it 
because  there  was  so  much  thought  of  a  fiery 
hereafter  in  the  religion  of  long-ago,  I  wonder, 
that  the  setting  for  devotional  exercise  was 
never  a  warm  place?  Or  was  it  all  merely  a 
quiet  arrangement  to  benefit  the  tavern-keeper? 
Certainly,  the  discomforts  of  staging  bene- 
fited the  tavern-keeper.  And  the  shrewd 
Yankees  who  started  our  early  stage  lines  were 
not  long  in  setting  up,  at  convenient  intervals 
along  their  routes,  houses  which  in  fact  as  well 
as  on  their  sign-boards  dispensed  "  refreshment 
for  man  and  beast."  Some  who  are  always 
sighing  for  "  the  good  old  times  "  like,  even  in 
this    twentieth    century,    to    linger    upon    the 

1  See  Among  Old  New  England  Inns. 


326  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

charms  of  stage-coach  days,  the  picturesque 
driver  skilfully  controlling  his  four  handsome 
horses  and  heralding  his  approach  by  the  wind- 
ing of  a  bugle,  the  bustle  of  interest  as  the  stage 
arrived  at  each  new  village  and  the  lure  of 
shady  roads  with  their  fascinating  vista  of 
ever-changing  horizon.  Yet  there  were  many 
disagreeable  things  about  staging.  Though 
Longfellow  could  spin  such  "  Tales  of  The  Way- 
side Inn  "  as  to  make  us  fairly  ache  for  a  share 
in  the  life  of  that  hostelry,  in  prose,  he  thus 
refers  to  his  first  acquaintance  with  the  place: 
"  The  stage  left  Boston  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  reaching  the  Sudbury  Tavern  for 
breakfast,  a  considerable  portion  of  the  route 
being  travelled  in  total  darkness  and  without  your 
having  the  least  idea  who  your  companions 
might  be!  " 

Samuel  Breck  tells  us  that,  early  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  he  was  sometimes  nine  days 
going  from  New  York  to  Boston.1  Yet  Breck 
lived  to  look  back  on  these  as  "  good  old  times." 
For  the  forced  familiarity  of  the  railroad  trains 
was  very  distasteful  to  him.  We  find  him 
writing,  on  July  22,  1835,  "  This  morning  at 
nine  o'clock  I  took  passage  in  a  railroad  car 
from  Boston  for  Providence.  Five  or  six  other 
cars    were    attached  to  the  '  loco  '  and    uglier 

1  Cf.  Journey  of  Madam  Knight  in  Among  Old  New  England 
Inns. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  327 

boxes  I  do  not  wish  to  travel  in.  They  were  huge 
carriages  made  to  stow  away  some  thirty 
human  beings  who  sit  cheek  by  jowl  as  best 
they  can.  Two  poor  fellows,  who  were  not 
much  in  the  habit  of  making  their  toilet, 
squeezed  me  into  a  corner,  while  the  hot  sun 
drew  from  their  garments  a  villainous  compound 
of  smells  made  up  of  salt  fish,  tar,  and  molasses. 

"  By  and  by,  just  twelve  —  only  twelve  — 
bouncing  factory  girls  were  introduced,  who 
were  going  on  a  party  of  pleasure  to  Newport. 
*  Make  room  for  the  ladies,'  bawled  out  the 
superintendent.  '  Come,  gentlemen,  jump  up 
on  the  top;  plenty  of  room  there.'  *  I'm  afraid 
of  a  bridge  knocking  my  brains  out,'  said  a 
passenger.  Some  made  one  excuse  and  some 
another.  .  .  .  The  whole  twelve  were,  however, 
introduced  and  soon  made  themselves  at  home 
sucking  lemons  and  eating  green  apples." 

And  then,  nothing  being  more  difficult  to 
sympathize  with,  on  a  railroad  train,  than 
your  fellow-passenger's  desire  to  eat  fruit, 
Breck  proceeds  to  give  expression  to  the  pent-up 
snobbery  of  his  soul:  "  The  rich  and  the  poor, 
the  educated  and  the  ignorant,  the  polite  and 
the  vulgar,  all  herd  together  in  this  modern 
improvement  in  travelling.  .  .  .  Steam,  so  use- 
ful in  many  respects,  interferes  with  the  comfort 
of  travelling,  destroys  every  salutary  distinction 
in  society,  and  overturns  by  its  whirligig  power 


328  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

the  once  rational,  gentlemanly  and  safe  way  of 
getting  along  on  a  journey. 

"  Talk  of  ladies  on  board  a  steamboat  or  in  a 
railroad  car!  There  are  none.  I  never  feel 
like  a  gentleman  there.  .  .  .  To  restore  herself 
to  her  caste,  let  a  lady  move  in  select  company 
at  five  miles  an  hour  and  take  her  meals  in 
comfort  at  a  good  inn.  .  .  .  The  old-fashioned 
way,  with  one's  own  horses  and  carriages,  with 
liberty  to  dine  decently  in  a  decent  inn  and  be 
master  of  one's  movements,  with  the  delight  of 
seeing  the  country  and  getting  along  rationally, 
that  is  the  mode  to  which  I  cling."  As  a  clinch- 
ing argument  Mr.  Breck  might  have  quoted, 
and  still  been  in  character,  the  remark  of  that 
old-school  blood  who  thus  summarized  his 
resentment  of  the  railway  as  an  institution: 
"  You  got  upset  in  a  coach  —  and  there  you 
were!  You  get  upset  in  a  rail-car  and,  damme, 
where  are  you?  " 

Josiah  Quincy,  who  made  the  journey  to 
New  York  by  stage  in  1826  in  the  company  of 
Judge  Story,  thought  himself  very  fortunate 
to  reach  his  destination  (travelling  only  in  the 
"  day-time  ")  on  the  fourth  day  in  time  for  a 
late  dinner.  "  The  stage  left  Boston  at  3  a.  m. 
and  at  2  a.  m.  a  man  was  sent  around  to  the 
houses  of  those  who  were  booked  for  the  passage. 
His  instructions  were  to  knock,  pull  the  bell, 
and   shout   and   disturb   the  neighborhood   as 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  329 

much  as  possible,  in  order  that  the  person  who 
was  to  take  the  coach  might  be  up  and  dressed 
when  it  reached  his  door.  When  the  coach 
arrived  there  was  no  light  inside  and  passengers 
waited  until  daybreak  before  they  could  see 
who  were  their  fellow  passengers." 

Even  as  late  as  1835  going  to  New  York  by 
stage  was  a  good  deal  of  an  undertaking  and  for 
at  least  a  fortnight  in  advance  would  be  a  sub- 
ject of  much  conversation  on  the  part  of  the 
intending  traveller  and  his  friends.  Then  the 
adventurous  one  would  go  to  the  stage  office 
at  7  Elm  Street,  engage  a  seat  for  his  journey 
and  leave  word  for  the  stage  to  call  at  his  home 
for  him.  The  following  evening  at  7.30  the 
old  vehicle  would  come  lumbering  up  to  his 
door  and  his  trunk  would  be  strapped  on  the 
rack  behind.  This  process  and  the  return  trip 
to  the  office  for  the  mail  occupied  until  10  p.  m. 
when  the  stage  would  really  set  out  on  its  jour- 
ney. One  who  took  the  trip  in  the  month  of 
February,  1835,  has  thus  described  it: 

'  We  left  the  stage  office  on  time,  five  pas- 
sengers on  the  inside.  The  route  out  of  the 
city  was  through  Elm,  Hanover,  Court,  Cam- 
bridge and  Charles  Streets  over  the  Milldam. 
The  Milldam  commenced  at  Arlington  Street 
and  ran  over  what  is  now  called  Beacon  Street 
as  far  as  Brookline  Avenue.  The  toll-gate  was 
located  about  opposite  the  foot  of  Clarendon 


330  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Street.  Then  out  through  Brookline,  Brighton 
and  Newton  we  travelled,  stopping  at  the 
tavern  to  change  horses,  which  was  done  every 
ten  or  twelve  hours  of  the  journey. 

"  After  riding  all  night  —  and  a  bitter  cold 
night  it  was  and  snowing  fast  —  we  arrived  at 
the  town  of  Sturbridge  on  the  Worcester  turn- 
pike. Here  we  had  breakfast.  At  this  place 
we  changed  from  wheels  to  runners.  At  noon 
we  reached  Hartford,  Connecticut,  and  had  a 
good  hot  dinner.  From  here  the  sleighing 
became  poor.  Many  times  during  the  evening 
the  gentlemen  had  to  get  out  and  walk.  Ar- 
rived at  New  Haven  for  supper  —  another  wild 
night.  We  had  our  breakfast  at  a  tavern  on  the 
old  Boston  Post  Road.  Every  time  the  stage 
stopped  for  a  change  of  horses  or  for  meals  the 
gentlemen  went  for  something  in  the  shape  of 
hot  toddy,  the  price  of  which  was  three  cents. 
.  .  .  The  price  of  meals  was:  breakfast  and 
supper  twenty-five  cents  each  —  dinner  37j 
cents.  You  could  make  the  latter  price  by 
paying  a  quarter  and  ninepence,  which  was 
twelve  and  a  half  cents.  Most  of  the  taverns 
set  a  good  table  with  plenty  of  food  well  cooked. 

"  On  arriving  in  New  York  we  drove  through 
the  Bowery,  Chatham  Street,  Broadway,  Cort- 
land Street  to  the  stage  house,  arriving  at  noon 
having  been  thirty-eight  hours  on  our  journey. 
The  fare,  including  meals,  was  $17.50.    vTired 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  331 

and    lame   we  were,   too,  when    the  trip  was 
ended." 

How  greatly  the  coming  of  the  railroad 
facilitated  travel  to  New  York  is  seen  by  the 
fact  that,  in  1839,  persons  wishing  to  make 
the  journey  could  leave  Boston  for  Providence 
(in  all  but  the  winter  months)  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  taking  the  steamer  immedi- 
ately upon  arriving  in  the  Rhode  Island  city 
and  get  into  New  York  at  eleven  the  next 
morning.  The  total  expense,  including  supper 
and  stateroom,  was  now  $7.00,  a  saving  of 
$10.50  over  the  cost  of  that  trip  which,  in 
1835,  made  our  friend  "  tired  and  lame." 

The  ramifications  of  the  stage  coach  as  a 
commercial  institution  were,  however,  so  varied 
and  so  numerous  that,  for  a  long  time,  it  was 
quite  the  custom  to  talk  of  the  "  calamity  of 
railways."  The  Boston  Traveller  encouraged 
this  cordially,  for  it  was  a  "  stage  coach  paper," 
issued  on  Tuesdays  and  Fridays  (beginning  in 
1825),  for  the  express  purpose  of  giving  all  the 
latest  news  about  stage  routes.  How  large  a 
volume  of  patronage  the  stage  coach  as  an 
institution  commanded  may  be  judged  from 
the  fact  that,  in  1832,  there  were  ninety-three 
lines  of  stages  running  out  of  Boston.  Time 
tables  and  stage  lists  were  issued  by  Badger 
and  Porter  from  1825  to  1836,  and  all  this  time 
the  Eastern  Stage  Company,   a  consolidation 


332  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

of  stage  coach  interests,  was  doing  an  enormous 
business  in  coach-making  and  blacksmithing 
as  well  as  in  its  stages  and  taverns.  Moreover, 
the  taverns  in  the  cities  no  less  than  in  the 
country  towns  were,  in  many  cases,  owned  by 
those  who  controlled  stock  in  the  stage  lines. 
One  chronicler  tells  us  that  "  the  taverns  of 
Boston  were  the  original  business  exchanges; 
they  combined  the  Counting  House,  the  Ex- 
change Office,  the  Reading-room  and  the  Bank. 
Each  represented  a  locality. 

"  To  the  Lamb  Tavern  .  .  .  people  went 
•  to  see  a  man  from  Dedham  '  —  it  was  the 
resort  of  all  from  Norfolk  County.  The  old 
Eastern  Stage  House  in  Ann  Street  was  fre- 
quented by  '  down  Easters,'  captains  of  vessels, 
formerly  from  the  Penobscot  and  Kennebec; 
there  were  to  be  seen  groups  of  sturdy  men 
seated  round  an  enormous  fire-place,  chalking 
down  the  price  of  bark  and  lumber,  and  shippers 
bringing  in  a  vagrant  tarpaulin  to  '  sign  the 
articles.'  To  the  Exchange  Coffee  House  re- 
sorted the  nabobs  of  Essex  County;  here  those 
aristocratic  eastern  towns,  Newburyport  and 
Portsmouth,  were  represented  by  ship  owners 
and  ship  builders,  merchants  of  the  first  class." 

The  Lamb  Tavern  here  referred  to  was  on 
the  site  of  the  present  Adams  House  and  its 
sign  is  mentioned  as  early  as  1746  in  the  books 
written  by  foreign  visitors  to  Boston.    In  later 


g  ? 

Oh 


5a  oo 
rO  O 
^   «3 


BROMFIELD    HOUSE,    ABOUT    1860. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  333 

days  it  was  kept  by  Laban  Adams,  father  of 
"Oliver  Optic"  Adams.  Near  by,  on  Hayward 
Place,  long  famous  as  the  resort  of  Bohemian 
diners-out,  was  another  noted  inn  called  the 
White  Horse. 

In  the  nineteenth  century,  however,  the 
unique  claim  to  a  picturesque  cognomen  and 
sign-board  belonged  to  the  Indian  Queen  on 
Bromfield  Street.  This  was  a  noted  stage  tavern 
and  it  was  kept  -  -  till  1816  —  by  Isaac  Trask 
and  afterwards  by  his  widow  Nabby.  Then  it 
began  to  be  called  the  Bromfield  House.  One 
of  its  landlords  was  Simeon  Boyden,  father  of 
jDwight  Boyden,  the  first  landlord  of  the 
:Tremont  House,  and  of  Frederic  Boyden,  one 
of  the  early  landlords  of  the  Astor  House,  New 
York.  Subsequently  the  Bromfield  House  was 
kept  by  Preston  Shepard  (1823)  who  was,  in 
turn,  followed  as  a  landlord  by  the  Crocketts, 
father  and  son. 

Mrs.  Kate  Gannett  Wells  has  written  charm- 
ingly 1  of  the  entertainment  which  used  to  be 
offered  in  this  picturesque  old  hostelry: 

"  In  the  days  of  the  Crocketts,  Col.  Selden 
Crockett  and  his  son  S.  Frank  Crockett  (1844- 
1869),  its  great  courtyard  was  renowned  for  the 
vehicles  of  all  kinds  which  drove  into  it  from 
the  suburbs  and  the  city  proper.  In  this  yard 
was  a  wonderful  well,  concerning  which  Mr. 

1  In  the  New  England  Magazine  of  January,  1893. 


334  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Sumner,  a  provision  dealer  of  great  local  fame 
for  his  fresh  and  salted  meats,  always  declared 
that  '  one  bucket  of  water  from  Crockett's 
well  made  better  brine  than  two  buckets  of 
Cochituate.'  The  hotel  also  had  a  cupboard, 
which  answered  all  the  purposes  of  a  bar;  for 
in  those  days  one  might  as  well  have  a  house 
without  a  roof  as  a  hotel  without  a  bar;  but 
it  was  abandoned  long  before  the  hotel  was 
closed. 

"  Mrs.  Crockett  herself  presided  over  all 
internal  affairs,  with  a  matronly  grace  and  old- 
fashioned  New  England  order.  Neither  French 
dishes  nor  c  ambiguous  entrees  '  ever  garnished 
the  table.  Dinners  such  as  these  were  given  — 
boiled  salt  fish  with  pork  scraps,  hashed  calf's 
head  and  dropped  eggs,  corned  beef  and  cabbage, 
cottage  pudding  and  cranberry  pie!  .  .  .  Once 
New  York's  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  was  obliged 
to  submit  to  serving  Col.  Crockett's  original 
baked  beans  and  brown  bread,  steaming  hot, 
for  a  party  of  Boston  merchants,  who  when  in 
New  York,  ordered  them  to  be  sent  on  for  their 
Sunday  breakfast  from  the  Bromfield  House 
by  the  Saturday  night  train,  protected  by 
close  coverings. 

"  Col.  Crockett  often  stood  at  his  front  door 
on  Bromfield  Street  welcoming  his  guests  and 
leading  them  to  the  dining  room  where  he 
carved.     He  was  a  man  of  undeviating  honor, 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  335 

true  patriotism,  and  quick  kindliness,  *  a  good 
man  to  tie  to  '  as  many  a  one  said  who  sought 
his  aid.  This  house  was  the  dinner  centre  of 
the  old-fashioned  Jacksonian  Democracy,  Frank- 
lin Pierce,  Caleb  Cushing  .  .  .  Hon.  George 
S.  Hillard  and  many  others  were  constantly 
there;  even  Governor  Andrew  said  that  the 
best  relief  he  obtained  from  his  duties  at 
the  State  House  was  the  mid-day  dinner  at 
Col.  Crockett's.  At  the  farewell  dinner,  April 
7,  1869,  when  the  house  was  closed  forever, 
B.  P.  Shillaber  wrote  an  ode  called  '  The  Old 
Bromfield  House  '  which  was  sung  to  the  tune 
of  *  Auld  Lang  Syne.'  " 

With  the  introduction  of  the  "  hourlies " 
several  hotels  quite  near  Boston  came  to  be 
well  known,  among  them  the  old  Norfolk  House, 
which  stood  on  the  site  of  the  present  Norfolk 
House  in  Eliot  Square,  Roxbury.  This  was 
the  first  public  house  in  the  vicinity  and  it  was 
the  terminus  of  a  very  profitable  line  of  "  bus- 
ses." Previous  to  the  inception  of  this  enter- 
prise (in  1826)  the  stage  coaches  on  the  various 
roads  running  out  of  Boston  had  been  the 
only  regular  means  of  public  conveyance  by 
which  a  person  could  get  from  one  part  of  the 
city  to  another  or  from  the  city  to  its  immediate 
suburbs.  But  in  the  same  year  that  Brooks 
Bowman  was  inspired  to  set  up  this  service 
for  Roxbury  Stephen  Wiley  established  a  similar 


336  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

line  to  Charlestown  and  Ebenezer  Kimball  a 
line  to  East  Cambridge.  Ere  long  many  such 
coaches  were  plying  between  Boston  and  the 
suburbs.  Boston  was  connected  with  South 
Boston,  then  a  favorite  residential  section,  by 
a  single  coach  which  made  six  trips  each  day, 
Sundays  excepted.  Its  Boston  headquarters 
were  at  the  Washington  Coffee  House,  which 
stood  on  Washington  Street,  near  Milk  Street, 
and  its  route  over  the  Dover  Street  Bridge. 
Men  did  not  use  the  "  hourlies  "  much,  their 
principal  patrons  being  women  or  old  and 
infirm  persons.  The  fare  was  twelve  and  a 
half  cents  each  way  for  a  long  time,  but  by  1853 
the  line  to  the  Norfolk  House,  of  which  H. 
King  was  then  proprietor,  advertised  a  coach 
every  seven  and  a  half  minutes  during  week- 
days at  a  fare  of  six  cents. 

The  "  Governor  Brooks,"  an  omnibus  drawn 
by  four  horses  and  having  seats  for  eighteen 
passengers  inside  and  for  six  outside,  began  in 
1835  to  run  regularly  from  Winnisimmet  Ferry 
at  the  foot  of  Hanover  Street  to  Roxbury, 
two  and  a  half  hours  being  allowed  for  the 
round  trip  and  the  price  of  a  single  passage 
being  twelve  and  a  half  cents.  In  1846  Messrs. 
Hobbs  and  Prescott  started  the  Dock  Square 
and  Canton  Street  line,  which  was  purchased 
in  1851  by  J.  H.  Hathorne. 

For  a  long  time   Cambridge  had  only  half 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  337 

hour  omnibus  service  with  no  conveyance 
leaving  Boston  after  twelve  o'clock  at  night. 
A  story  is  told  in  this  connection  which  shows 
the  kindness  as  well  as  the  shrewdness  of 
President  Walker.1  He  had  been  attending  a 
committee  meeting  of  the  Historical  Society, 
held  at  the  house  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw  on 
Mount  Vernon  Street,  and  found  that  he  had 
only  just  time  to  catch  the  last  omnibus  out. 
Just  as  he  and  Rev.  George  E.  Ellis,  with  whom 
he  was  walking,  reached  the  head  of  Brattle 
Street,  the  coach's  starting-place,  the  president 
said  suddenly,  "  I  think  I  will  walk  to  Cam- 
bridge. There  may  be  some  young  men  in  the 
omnibus  who  would  rather  not  see  me  at  this 
time." 

Colonel  Higginson  has  told  of  sundry  narrow 
escapes  from  "  nautical  eminence  "  experienced 
by  him  and  James  Russell  Lowell  when  — 
while  walking  back  to  Cambridge  on  dark 
nights  together,  after  hearing  Emerson  lecture 
—  they  would  be  hailed  from  the  river  by 
seamen  in  search  of  those  who  could  pilot  their 
craft  up  the  Charles.  For  there  were  no  lights 
across  the  intervening  space  and  Boston  and 
Cambridge  were  then  very  far  apart  —  at 
night.  Up  to  1856  toll  was  charged  passengers 
on  this  bridge,  one  cent  for  those  on  foot 
and  "  fourpence "  for  all  vehicles.    A  favorite 

1  President  of  Harvard  1853-1860. 


338  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

sport   with    Harvard    students  was    "  running 
toll." 

The  Stackpole  House,  which  stood  at  the 
corner  of  Milk  and  Devonshire  Streets,  was 
another  famous  resort.  Originally  a  private 
house  it  was  an  imposing,  Colonial  building 
with  a  hospitable  front  hall  running  through* 
its  centre  and  spacious  rooms  on  each  side. 
It  rejoiced  in  a  front  yard  which  contained 
two  gigantic  chestnut  trees  under  which,  on 
summer  evenings,  guests  might  be  seen  smoking 
real  Havana  cigars  at  three  cents  apiece  and 
drinking  such  beverages  as  they  might  prefer 
at  fourpence.  A  chained  bear  often  disported 
himself  in  this  yard  and  now  and  then  a  peacock 
strutted  up  and  down  airing  his  gorgeous  tail 
and  giving  color  to  the  scene.  Other  Boston 
hostelries  of  the  olden  days  were  the  Mansion 
House,  the  Pearl  Street  House,  the  Commercial 
Coffee  House,  —  where  the  Exchange  Club 
now  is,  —  Wilde's,  Doolittle's  and  the  Elm 
Street  House.  Most  of  these  had  courtyards 
paved  with  cobble  stones  and  were  favorite 
taverns  with  stage  travellers. 

At  the  Marlborough  House,  which  long  stood 
on  Washington  Street  between  Bromfleld  and 
Winter  Streets  (and  was  famous  as  a  temperance 
hotel),  Gen.  Lafayette  was  entertained  in  1824 
with  a  banquet  at  which  a  distinguished  com- 
pany was  present.     Nathaniel  Rogers  was  the 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  339 

proprietor  here  beginning  in  1836,  and  on  his 
parlor  wall  was  this  printed  regulation: 
"  Family  worship  to  be  attended  every  morning 
and  evening.  No  intoxicating  liquors  to  be 
sold  or  used  in  the  house.  No  money  to  be 
received  at  the  office  on  the  Sabbath  nor  will 
any  company  be  received  on  that  day  except 
in  cases  of  necessity.  Cold  and  warm  baths 
are  provided  here  for  the  accommodation  of 
boarders  and  a  vegetable  diet  for  those  who 
prefer  it.  The  best  efforts  are  promised  by  the 
landlord  to  furnish  the  table  with  the  products 
of  free  labor.  Smoking  of  cigars  not  allowed 
on  any  part  of  the  premises." 

This  prohibition  of  liquor,  tobacco  and  the 
products  of  slave  labor  made  the  Marlborough 
very  popular  with  the  anti-slavery  people, 
most  of  whom  regarded  smoking  as  well  as 
tippling  and  slave  owning  as  a  crime.  Which 
reminds  me  of  a  story  that  Julian  Haw- 
thorne 1  tells  to  illustrate  his  contention  that 
his  uncle,  Horace  Mann,  had  a  vacuum  where 
his  sense  of  humor  should  have  been.  Haw- 
thorne, the  romancer,  had  once  admitted  in 
Mann's  presence  that  he  occasionally  smoked 
a  cigar,  whereupon  the  reformer,  greatly  ex- 
cited, said,  "  Did  I  understand  you  to  say, 
Mr.  Hawthorne,  that  you  actually  use  to- 
bacco? " 

1  In  Hawthorne  and  His  Circle. 


340  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

'  Yes,  I  smoke  a  cigar  once  in  a  while,"  was 
the  comfortable  reply. 

Horace  Mann  could  not  keep  his  seat. 
He  started  and  paced  the  room  menacingly. 
His  high  admiration  for  Hawthorne's  genius 
and  his  deep  affection  for  him  as  a  man  were 
obviously  greatly  shaken  by  this  admission. 
But  the  need  of  being  true  to  his  colors  at  any 
cost  was  upon  him  and  he  soon  said,  in  an 
agitated  voice:  "Then,  Mr.  Hawthorne,  it  is 
my  duty  to  tell  you  that  I  no  longer  have  the 
same  respect  for  you  that  I  have  had."  With 
which  he  turned  and  strode  from  the  contamina- 
ting presence  of  an  occasional  smoker. 

Among  the  inns  mentioned  in  Bowen's  Boston 
Guide  for  1833  are  the  Exchange  Coffee  House, 
kept  by  Hart  Davenport,  with  accommodation 
for  one  hundred  and  thirty  guests  and  the  price 
of  board  and  lodging  one  dollar  a  day,  seven 
dollars  a  week,  and  two  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars  a  year.  It  is  stipulated  that  "  annual 
boarders  "  shall  make  express  agreements  with 
the  proprietor  and  that  all  lodgers  shall  try  to 
be  in  by  eleven  o'clock,  the  "  retiring  hour." 
The  Commercial  Coffee  House,  on  Milk  Street 
near  Liberty  Square,  is  referred  to  as  the 
stopping  place  of  "  some  Providence  and  hourly 
stages  "  and  the  City  Tavern  (Doolittle's)  as 
the  point  of  departure  for  "  Salem,  Gloucester 
and  other  stages."     The  Merchants'  Hotel,  42 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  341 

Hanover  Street,  is  the  headquarters  of  the 
"  Providence  and  northward  stage,"  and  the 
Eastern  Stage  House  at  84  Ann  Street  is  the 
terminus  of  the  line  after  which  it  had  been 
named.  On  Howard  Street  flourished  "  Kil- 
burn's  (formerly  Holland's  Coffee  House);  "  at 
158  Washington  Street  the  Washington  Coffee 
House,  kept  by  Lewis  Boutell;  "  on  Washington 
Street,  opposite  Boylston  Market,  the  Lafayette 
Hotel  kept  by  Mr.  S.  Haskell;  "  and  on  Wash- 
ington Street,  near  Essex,  the  Liberty  Tree 
Tavern  of  which  one  G.  Cummings  appears  to 
have  been  the  proprietor. 

The  naive  advertisements  of  some  of  these 
houses  are  quite  entertaining.  The  New  Eng- 
land Coffee  House  was  inordinately  proud  of 
the  fact  that  it  had  water  on  its  fourth  story 
*  by  hydraulic  pressure  "  and  that  the  entire 
house  was  lighted  by  gas.  In  the  Boston  Adver- 
tiser of  September  1,  1831,  I  find  a  notice  of  the 
Julien  House,  67  Congress  Street,  which  informs 
the  public  that  it  is  kept  by  "  Miss  Sarah 
Hawks  and  Company  "  and  that  "  Gentlemen 
and  ladies  from  the  country  who  are  in  pursuit 
of  board  and  pleasant  situation  will  be  thank- 
fully received."  But  the  prestige  of  the  stage 
inn  is  fading  fast  now,  for  six  months  later 
(in  March,  1831)  one  comes,  in  the  Advertiser 
files,  upon  an  editorial  endorsement  of  a  petition 
for  a  railroad   to   Worcester  which  has  been 


342  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

signed  by  H.  G.  Otis,  Joseph  Coolidge,  Israel 
Thorndike,  Henry  Sargent,  Horace  Gray,  F.  J. 
Oliver  and  Robert  G.  Shaw.  This  paper  was 
not  particularly  dependent  upon  stage-coach 
patronage  and,  from  the  very  first,  heartily 
endorsed  the  enemy.  Nathan  Hale  of  the 
Advertiser  is  for  this  reason  often  called  "  the 
father  of  the  railroad  system  of  the  State." 

According  to  George  Glover  Crocker,  who 
has  made  a  special  study  l  of  the  history  of 
transportation  facilities  in  and  about  Boston, 
the  first  report  to  the  Massachusetts  Legisla- 
ture in  favor  of  a  railroad  for  passenger  traffic 
was  made  in  1827  when  it  was  decided  that  the 
idea  was  feasible.  At  this  time  it  was  planned 
to  have  a  path  on  each  side  of  the  rails,  like 
the  canal  tow  paths,  for  the  horses  who  should 
convey  the  cars.  Already  Gridley  Bryant  had 
in  this  fashion  drawn  from  the  granite  quarries 
in  Quincy  to  the  Neponset  River  near  by  the 
granite  used  in  the  construction  of  Bunker 
Hill  Monument.  To  be  sure,  there  had  been 
much  opposition  to  the  granting  of  the  charter 
necessary  for  the  construction  of  this  railroad, 
involving  as  it  did  the  taking  of  a  right  of  way 
by  eminent  domain.  But  the  patriotic  purpose 
for  which  the  road  was  to  be  used  finally  caused 
the  vote  in  its  favor  to  be  carried  by  a  bare 
majority. 

1  From  the  Stage  Coach  to  the  Railroad  Train  and  the  Street  Car, 


2^ 
s  g  fj  g 

OS 


OLD    BOWDOIN    SQUARE,    SHOWING    AN    EARLY    HOME    OF    FRANCIS 
PARKMAN. 


TRAIN     USED    IN     1835    ON     FIRST    TRIP    OVER    BOSTON    AND    LOWELL 

ROAD. 

Page  345. 


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FORT  HILL  SQUARE  IN  1858. 
Page  353. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  343 

Every  step  in  the  development  of  railroading 
was  opposed  by  those  endowed  with  "  good 
common  sense."  Captain  Basil  Hall,  who  in 
1827  rode  by  stage  coach  over  the  present 
route  of  the  Boston  and  Albany  railroad,  said, 
"  Those  Yankees  talk  of  constructing  a  railroad 
over  this  route;  as  a  practical  engineer  I 
pronounce  it  simply  impossible."  And  in  the 
June  of  that  year  there  appeared  in  the  Boston 
Courier  a  satirical  article  from  the  pen  of  the 
editor,  Joseph  T.  Buckingham,  which  ridiculed 
the  "  railroad  mania  "  and  declared  a  line  from 
Boston  to  Albany  to  be  "  as  useless  as  a  railroad 
from  Boston  to  the  Moon." 

Yet  Buckingham  himself  joined  the  "  fa- 
natics "  the  next  year.  Nearly  all  the  editors, 
indeed,  printed  congratulatory  notices  when, 
on  March  17,  1834,  the  first  New  England 
experiment  with  a  locomotive  was  made  on  the 
Boston  and  Worcester  road,  then  completed 
as  far  as  Newton.  Regular  passenger  service 
to  this  town,  with  three  trains  a  day  in  either 
direction,  began  on  May  16,  the  trip  being  made 
in  nineteen  minutes  and  the  fare  being  37-J 
cents.  When  Harriet  Martineau  visited  us, 
late  in  1835,  she  was  able  to  record  "  very 
speedy  communication  "  between  Boston  and 
New  York  by  way  of  Providence,  —  the  dis- 
tance "  being  performed  in  twenty  hours  by 
rail-road  and    steam-boat."     The  same  writer 


344  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

was  a  good  deal  impressed  by  the  expenditure 
of  "  some  thousands  of  dollars  "  to  clear  the 
tracks  of  the  recently  completed  Boston  and 
Lowell  road  from  a  single  fall  of  snow. 

Considerable  local  interest  attaches  to  the 
development  of  this  last-named  railroad  be- 
cause it  connected  Boston  with  the  new  seat 
of  textile  manufacturing  founded  by  a  remark- 
able group  of  Boston  men,  prominent  among 
whom  were  the  Lowells,  Appletons,  Lawrences, 
Jacksons,  Millses,  Reads  and  Lymans.  The 
charter  of  the  Boston  and  Lowell  railroad  was 
obtained  through  the  influence  of  Daniel  Web- 
ster and  provided  that,  for  thirty  years,  no 
road  should  be  built  parallel  with  it.  From  the 
start  this  road  was  taken  rather  more  seriously 
than  the  road  to  Worcester,  whose  average 
speed  had  been  only  ten  miles  an  hour  and  which 
went  so  slowly  on  up-grades  that  farmers  and 
berry  pickers,  stationed  alongside  the  rails, 
could  pass  their  wares  to  the  conductor  on  the 
moving  train  to  sell  for  them  in  the  city. 

Four  years  were  required  to  build  the  Boston 
and  Lowell  road  and,  on  Wednesday,  May  27, 
1835,  its  rails  were  used  for  the  first  time. 
The  engine  employed  was  the  "  Stephenson  " 
and  had  been  built  by  the  Robert  Stephenson 
Company  at  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  England,  the 
previous  year.  This  highly  important  adjunct 
of  the  road  was  shipped  from  England  to  Boston 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  345 

and  there  taken  apart  and  drawn  by  canal 
boat  up  the  old  Middlesex  Canal  to  Lowell. 
On  its  first  trip  the  twenty-six  miles  to 
Boston  was  made  in  one  hour  and  seventeen 
minutes.  The  cars  drawn  by  this  "made  in 
England "  engine,  were  modelled  after  the 
stage  coach  and  seated  six  persons.  The 
conductor,  called  the  captain,  rode,  without 
shelter,  where  the  stage  driver  would  have  sat 
and  the  brakeman  rode  backwards  at  a  cor- 
responding seat  at  the  other  end.  The  engine 
had  no  whistle  and  there  was  no  cab  for  the 
engineer.  The  particular  guardian  of  the 
"  Stephenson  "  was  named  William  Robinson 
and  he  had  been  imported  from  England  with 
the  engine.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  horseman 
and  a  good  deal  of  a  dandy.  Often  he  would 
be  so  busy  exercising  the  fast  stepper  he  stabled 
in  Boston  that  the  train  for  Lowell  would  start 
an  hour  late!  At  first  there  were  no  baggage 
cars  and  no  checks,  and  seats  in  the  forward  car, 
where  cinders  circulated  freely,  were  somewhat 
cheaper  than  further  back.  For,  as  Tony  Weller 
pointed  out,  travelling  after  an  engine  was  not 
an  unmixed  joy. 

The  stage  coach  and  the  tavern  had  reached 
the  height  of  their  glory  together  and  together 
they  declined.  For  now  an  altogether  different 
type  of  hostelry  was  required,  and  in  Boston 
steps  had  already  been  taken  to  meet  the  new 


346  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

need.  By  1828  it  had  become  an  actual  neces- 
sity that  the  city  should  have  a  house  for  the 
entertainment  of  visitors  which  should  not 
only  be  spacious  but  should  possess  as  well 
dignity  and  beauty.  Accordingly  there  was 
erected  by  subscription  the  Tremont  House,  the 
pioneer  first  class  hotel  in  America.  Peter 
C.  Brooks  and  David  Sears  gave  ten  thousand 
dollars  each  to  the  undertaking,  and  Harrison 
Gray  Otis,  Samuel  Appleton,  Thomas  Handa- 
syd  Perkins,  William  Lawrence,  Henry  Hovey, 
Samuel  Eliot,  Josiah  Quincy,  Edmund  Dwight, 
Robert  G.  Shaw,  John  L.  Gardner  and  Fred- 
erick Tudor  were  among  the  other  well-known 
Bostonians  who  contributed  liberally  to  the 
enterprise.  The  corner  stone  was  laid  July  4, 
1828,  and  the  house  was  opened  to  the  public 
in  October,  1829,  its  initial  event  being  a  sub- 
scription dinner  over  which  Mayor  Quincy 
presided.  Among  the  distinguished  guests  were 
Judge  Joseph  Story,  Daniel  Webster,  Peter 
C.  Brooks  and  Edward  Everett,  the  latter 
making  the  occasion  notable  by  his  delivery 
of  a  witty  and  remarkably  felicitous  speech. 

"  In  the  erection  of  this  hotel,"  he  then  said, 
"  Bostonians  have  certainly  shown  that  they 
think  the  worshipful  company  of  travellers 
ought  to  be  as  well  bestowed  as  circumstances 
admit.  ...  I  will,  with  your  leave,  propose  a 
toast:     'The  memory  of  Columbus,  the  father 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  347 

of  American  travellers,  who  thought  the  world 
too  narrow  for  him,  even  before  he  was  sure 
there  was  any  other;  who  crossed  the  un- 
known Atlantic  for  a  trip  of  pleasure,  and 
discovered  a  new  continent  for  his  watering 
place.'  " 

The  first  manager  of  the  new  hostelry  was 
Dwight  Boyden  and  he  belongs  at  the  head  of 
a  noteworthy  list  of  men  who  took  great  joy 
in  serving  the  public  at  this  famous  old  stand. 
In  his  day  the  dining  room  procedure  at  the 
Tremont  House  was  as  elaborate  as  the  steps 
and  figures  in  an  old-fashioned  minuet.  "  The 
waiters,"  says  Benjamin  F.  Stevens,  who  wrote 
the  hotel's  valedictory,  "  filed  into  the  upper 
end  of  the  room  where  the  landlord  stood  with 
a  long  white  apron  around  him,  and  carving 
knife  and  fork  in  hand;  and  at  the  sound  of  a 
bell  one  seized  upon  a  quantity  of  plates, 
another  knives,  a  third  forks,  a  fourth  a  lot 
of  large  soup  spoons,  and  a  fifth  the  smaller 
spoons.  At  the  second  sound  of  the  bell  they 
moved  into  line,  and  at  the  third  marched 
with  sedate  steps  behind  the  chairs  of  the 
guests,  and  simultaneously  the  bearers  of  plates, 
knives,  forks  and  spoons,  with  a  flourish  of  the 
hand,  placed  the  different  articles  upon  the  table 
before  the  guests,  and  then  gracefully  stepped 
back  into  line  ready  to  carry  out  their  orders. 
In  the  meantime,  the  landlord  was  carving.'* 


348  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Similar  customs  were  kept  up  here  until  the 
table  d'hote  system  was  abolished.  And  the 
price  of  board  was  only  $1.50  a  day,  $2.00 
securing  a  parlor  as  well  as  a  bedroom! 

The  bill  of  fare  for  the  first  dinner  in  the 
Tremont  House  has  come  down  to  us  and  is  of 
decided  interest  because  it  is  fairly  typical  of 
the  state  "  American  plan  "  dinner  consumed  by 
our  grandfathers.  The  soups  were  terrapin  and 
Julienne,  and  terrapin  in  two  forms  as  well  as 
cod,  bass,  trout,  haddock  and  blackfish  were 
found  in  the  "  first  course  "  (sic).  Then  for  the 
"  second  course  "  came  boiled  chicken,  boiled 
turkey,  boiled  mutton  and  boiled  ham  together 
with  veal  in  several  forms,  chicken  salad,  and 
"  vol  au  vent  aux  Huitres."  The  roast  course 
included  beef,  mutton,  chicken,  duck,  par- 
tridge, plover,  quail,  woodcock,  mongrel  geese 
and  turkey.  "  Pastry,  puddings,  jelly,  Blanc- 
mange and  Meringues  a  la  creme  "  made  up  the 
"  fourth  course,"  while  for  "  dessert "  were 
offered  seckel  pears  and  choice  grapes. 

One  interesting  custom,  which  obtained  at 
the  Tremont  House,  in  its  early  days,  was  that 
of  providing  slippers  for  the  guests  while  their 
high  top  boots  were  being  blacked  or  greased. 
These,  in  various  hues  and  sizes,  were  arranged 
in  a  row  in  the  office.  On  New  Year's  Day 
transients  were  served,  free  of  charge,  with  all 
the  sherry  they  could  drink  and  regular  boarders 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  349 

with  all  the  eggnog  they  found  it  convenient 
to  imbibe. 

In  June,  1833,  when  President  Andrew  Jack- 
son came  to  Boston  to  open  the  new  dry-dock 
in  the  Charlestown  Navy  Yard  and  to  celebrate 
the  docking  there  of  Old  Ironsides,  he  and 
his  secretaries,  as  well  as  Commodore  Isaac 
Hull  and  Martin  Van  Buren,  then  vice-president, 
put  up  at  the  Tremont  House.  Here,  too, 
Charles  Dickens  stopped  on  his  first  visit  to 
America  in  1842;  and  the  house  was  the  head- 
quarters, the  previous  year,  of  the  Prince  De 
Joinville.  In  June,  1843,  President  Tyler  and 
the  members  of  his  cabinet  were  guests  here,  — 
the  occasion  of  their  visit  to  Boston  being  the 
completion  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  Among 
the  theatrical  lights  who  put  up  here,  while 
playing  in  Boston,  were  Edwin  Forrest  and 
William  C.  Macready.  Daniel  Webster  often 
stayed  here,  when  he  had  come  up  to  town 
from  his  Marshfield  farm,  and  Mr.  Stevens  is 
authority  for  the  statement  that  "  here  he 
wrote  some  of  his  undying  speeches  and  ora- 
tions." 

The  personality  of  the  man  in  charge  of  the 
Tremont  House  must  have  had  not  a  little  to 
do  with  the  enormous  success  which  the  hotel  at- 
tained. Many  of  the  landlords  had  as  fine  a  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  their  calling  as  have  the  doctors 
and  lawyers  of  our  own  time.     Paran  Stevens, 


350  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

who   was   here   from    1852-1863,   was   a   born 
hotel  man. 

Mr.  Stevens,  who  was  a  born  hotel  man, 
had  previously  presided  for  five  years  over 
the  Revere  House  in  Bowdoin  Square  (now, 
alas !  no  longer  standing),  a  memorial  erected 
to  Paul  Revere  in  1847  by  a  company  of  gen- 
tlemen connected  with  the  Charitable  Mechanics 
Association,  of  which  Revere  had  been  first  presi- 
dent. The  house  stood  on  the  site  of  the  dwell- 
ing and  grounds  of  Kirk  Boott,  one  of  the  emi- 
nent merchants  of  old  Boston,  and  father  of  that 
Kirk  Boott  who  was  connected  with  early  manu- 
facturing in  the  city  of  Lawrence.  Here  Jenny 
Lind  stopped  during  her  memorable  Boston  sea- 
son; and  Presidents  Fillmore,  Pierce,  Johnson, 
General  (and  then  President)  Grant,  General 
Sherman,  General  Sheridan,  the  late  King 
Edward,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Grand  Duke 
Alexis,  King  Kalakaua,  the  Emperor  Dom 
Pedro,  Christine  Nilsson,  Parepa  Rosa,  Adelina 
Patti  and  hosts  of  other  well-known  people  were 
entertained  here.  From  the  balcony  in  front  of 
one  of  the  large  parlor  windows  famous  speeches 
were  made  by  many  noted  public  men  in 
response  to  the  call  of  the  assembled  crowds. 
Another  Boston  hotel  of  ancient  and  honorable 
history  is  the  United  States,  whose  seal  dates 
back  to  1826  and  which,  though  built  before 
the   railroad,   had   the   good   fortune   to   have 


#•  ^mi* 


m* 


;^«vau 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  351 

behind  it  men  who  foresaw  the  coming  of  that 
change  and  planned  for  it.  Daniel  Webster 
lived  here  for  a  while  and  it  was  here  that 
Charles  Sumner  entertained  Dickens. 

The  American  House  dates  from  1835.  It 
was  to  this  place  that  Emerson  and  Whitman 
adjourned  for  what  Walt  describes  as  "  a  bully 
dinner  "  after  the  Sage  of  Concord  and  the 
Good  Gray  Poet  had  for  hours  been  tramping 
up  and  down  Boston  Common  arguing  about 
the  wisdom  or  folly  of  publishing  "  Leaves  of 
Grass." 

Intimately  bound  up  with  the  development 
of  hotels  and  means  of  transportation  is  the 
growth  of  newspapers  and  increased  facility 
in  mail  transmission.  As  late  as  1835  it  cost 
eighteen  and  three-quarters  cents  to  send  a 
letter  of  a  single  sheet  from  Boston  to  New 
York.  Necessarily,  therefore,  newspapers  pre- 
ferred copying  from  sheets  issued  in  other  cities 
to  maintaining  their  own  correspondents  in 
New  York  and  elsewhere.  In  1825  Boston  had 
four  daily  papers,  three  tri-weekly  ones,  seven 
semi- weeklies  and  fifteen  weekly  sheets.  News 
gathering  then  meant  actual  physical  adventure 
and  particularly  was  this  true  in  the  field  of 
marine  intelligence. 

The  first  regular  marine  service  in  Boston 
was  established  by  Samuel  Topliff,  who  had 
been  a  supercargo  in  the  employment  of  William 


352  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

Gray  and  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
hazards  of  the  deep.  He  fully  understood, 
also,  how  eager  merchants  are  for  the  earliest 
possible  news  of  their  vessels.  As  it  was  only 
through  the  news-room  (situated  at  first  in  the 
Exchange  Coffee  House)  that  merchants  could 
obtain  reliable  information  and  so  buy  stocks 
intelligently,  Mr.  Topliff  came  to  be  a  great 
power  in  the  community.  His  accuracy  was  so 
well  established  that  his  name  was  frequently 
forged  at  the  end  of  dispatches  with  the  hope 
of  enhancing  the  price  of  certain  commodities 
and  inflating  stock  values.1 

A  man  thus  indorsed  would  not,  of  course, 
long  remain  in  another's  pay  and  soon  Mr. 
Topliff  became  himself  proprietor  of  the  reading 
room  and  by  his  marked  ability  in  its  conduct 
developed  a  business  very  satisfactory  to  the 
merchants  and  very  remunerative  to  himself. 
Under  him  headquarters  were  removed  to  the 
Merchants'  Hall  building,  on  the  corner  of 
Congress  and  Water  Streets,  an  admirable  site 
for  the  reason  that  the  postofBce  was  then  in 
the  same  building. 

Topliff 's  news-room  was  a  kind  of  club  as  well 
as  an  information  bureau.  It  was  the  head- 
quarters for  the  merchants  who  dropped  in 
regularly  in  the  morning  before  proceeding  to 
their  counting-rooms  and  offices.      Besides  its 

1  See  Topliff' s  Travels,  Boston  Athenaeum,  1903. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  353 

"  telegraph  "  (a  system  of  signals  operated  on 
Long  Island)  it  maintained  two  boats,  from 
which  Mr.  Topliff  or  his  assistant  boarded  in- 
coming vessels  in  quest  of  the  latest  marine 
news.  The  facts  thus  obtained  were  recorded 
for  the  benefit  of  subscribers  in  one  of  seven 
books,  each  devoted  to  some  branch  of  the 
subject. 

From  Merchants'  Hall  Mr.  Topliff  moved 
his  headquarters  to  the  Old  State  House  and 
there  his  news-room  continued  to  flourish 
until  1842  when  he  withdrew  from  the  business. 
For  some  years  before  this  he  had  obtained  a 
good  deal  of  his  information  by  the  use  of  a 
telescope  stationed  at  the  top  of  his  house  at 
32  Washington  Square,  Fort  Hill. 

But  just  as  the  stage  coach  was  superseded 
by  the  railroad  and  the  tavern  by  the  hotel  so 
this  picturesque  method  of  news  gathering  was 
swept  away  when,  early  in  the  forties,  Samuel 
Finley  Breese  Morse,1  of  Charlestown,  invented 
and  perfected  the  electric  telegraph.  The  day 
of  things  "  modern  "  was  at  hand. 

1  See  The  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof-Trees, 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   GREAT   BOSTON   FIRE 

BOSTON  had  had  several  destructive  fires 
during  the  period  covered  by  this  book. 
In  1824  a  fire  originated  near  the  corner 
of  Charles  and  Chestnut  Streets,  spread  to 
Beacon  Street  and  destroyed  sixteen  buildings, 
thus  inflicting  on  the  city  the  great  loss  (for 
that  time)  of  $150,000.  On  Fast  Day,  in  1825, 
fifty  stores  valued  at  a  million  dollars  were 
burned  in  Central  and  Kilby  Streets,  and  in 
November  of  the  same  year  ten  buildings  on 
Court  Street  containing  many  lawyers'  offices 
were  destroyed.  In  May,  1835,  there  came  still 
another  fire  which  rendered  more  than  one 
hundred  families  homeless  by  the  destruction 
of  buildings  in  Blackstone,  Pond  and  Salem 
Streets. 

The  great  Boston  Fire,  however,  did  not  come 
until  1872.  It  broke  out  shortly  after  seven 
o'clock  on  Saturday  evening,  November  9,  in 
the  four  story  granite  block  at  the  corner  of 
Summer  and  Kingston  Streets.  Ere  it  was 
extinguished,   it  had  burned   over  a  space  of 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  355 

sixty-five  acres  destroying  property  valued  at 
seventy -five  million  dollars ! 

This  fire  is  of  interest  to  us  not  simply  because 
it  was  a  spectacular  and  impressive  conflagra- 
tion, but  also  because  it  utterly  changed  the 
aspect  of  Boston  in  that  district  over  which  it 
burned.  Mr.  Harold  Murdock  has  very  cleverly 
brought  this  fact  out  in  the  introduction  to 
his  little  book,  made  up  of  what  purport  to 
be  "Letters  Written  by  a  Gentleman  in 
Boston  to  His  Friend  in  Paris  Describing  the 
Great  Fire."  He  here  points  out  that  a  member 
of  the  Harvard  Class  of  1872  who  might  have 
left  Boston  immediately  after  his  graduation 
to  return  to-day  for  the  first  time  "  would  look 
in  vain  for  the  old  landmarks  and  accustomed 
sights  of  his  boyhood  days."  Christ  Church, 
Faneuil  Hall,  the  Old  State  House,  The  Old 
South  Church,  King's  Chapel  and  the  Park 
Street  spire  he  would  still  find,  to  be  sure. 
But  the  Common  would  have  lost  its  gates  and 
its  Old  Elm,1  Tremont  Street  its  far-famed 
trees  planted  by  coachmaker  Paddock,  and 
Summer  Street  all  of  that  old-time  beauty  and 
charm  which  made  it,  even  in  the  early  seventies, 
a  region  to  be  reverenced. 

For  Boston  in  1872  was  still  a  small  city, 
comparatively,  and  a  quaintly  attractive  one; 

The  old  elm  on  Boston  Common  was  the  first  thing  Dean  Stanley 
asked  Edward  Everett  Hale  to  show  him  when  he  visited  Boston. 


356  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

it  covered  a  territory  of  less  than  thirty  square 
miles  and  embraced  a  population  of  250,000. 
Roxbury  had  been  annexed  in  1868,  and  Dor- 
chester in  1870,  but  Brighton  and  West  Rox- 
bury were  still  separate  towns.  That  the  city 
had  not  yet  learned  how  to  deal  adequately 
with  a  great  crisis  is,  however,  shown  by  what 
happened  when  this  fire  broke  out. 

To  be  sure,  conditions  were  untoward.  It  had 
been  a  very  rainy  day  and  almost  every  horse 
in  the  city  was  ill  with  the  strange  disease  which, 
for  want  of  a  better  name,  was  called  "  the 
epizootic."  Yet  there  were  four  hundred  and 
seventy -five  paid  men  in  the  Boston  fire  depart- 
ment —  and  the  scene  of  the  disaster  was  a 
centrally  located  one.  The  real  trouble  appears 
to  have  been  that  everybody  thought  some  one 
else  must  have  given  the  alarm,  with  the  result 
that  it  was  not  given  at  all  for  some  time. 
When  the  engines  arrived  upon  the  scene  the 
fire  had  already  made  great  headway.  And 
although  no  wind  wa.s  stirring  it  spread  rapidly, 
crossing  Summer  Street  and  entering  both 
Devonshire  and  Otis  Streets.  It  also  burned 
eastward  down  Summer  Street  to  Church  Green 
and  from  there  went  on  rapidly  to  Broad  Street 
and  along  High  and  Purchase  Streets  towards 
Fort  Hill.  Thus  nearly  everything  in  the  terri- 
tory bounded  by  Washington  Street  on  the 
west,  Summer  Street  on  the  south,  the  water, 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  35? 

Oliver  Street  and  Liberty  Square  on  the  east, 
and  State  Street  on  the  north  was  taken  in. 

Happily,  Fort  Hill  which,  at  this  time,  had 
been  cut  away  but  not  built  upon,  gave  the 
firemen  a  vantage  point  of  which  they  made 
excellent  use  and  from  this  stand  on  the  one 
hand  and  from  the  Old  South  Church  and  the 
then  new  Post  Office,  on  the  other,  an  attack 
was  made  with  such  steadiness  and  pluck  that, 
on  Sunday  afternoon,  the  flames  were  effectively 
quenched.  Naturally,  however,  the  city  was  in 
a  deplorable  condition.  Thousands  upon  thou- 
sands had  seen  their  property  consumed  or 
had  been  thrown  out  of  employment  for  they 
knew  not  how  long,  and  the  terrible  excitement 
of  the  anxious  night  and  day  during  which  the 
fire  raged  had  unstrung  the  nerves  of  the 
strongest.  The  whole  community  was  on  the 
verge  of  panic,  for  every  vacant  space  was 
filled  with  hastily  moved  furniture  or  mer- 
chandise and  pickpockets  and  petty  thieves 
wandered  to  and  fro  at  will.  Finding  that  the 
police  were  quite  inadequate  to  cope  with  the 
situation,  a  whole  brigade  of  militia  was  called 
out  to  do  active  duty  (with  the  Old  South 
for  their  barracks)  and  guards  were  set  to 
patrol  the  streets  at  night.  Fortunately,  these 
precautions  served  to  prevent  any  very  shocking 
breach  of  the  peace. 

Though  the  number  of  dwelling  houses  which 


358  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

had  been  destroyed  was  comparatively  small  the 
loss  of  income  by  the  stopping  of  employment 
was  so  large  that  measures  of  relief  had  to  be 
organized  at  once.  But  the  assistance  freely 
and  generously  offered  by  the  people  of  other 
cities  was  not  needed.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
surplus  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  —  of  the 
$341,913.68  collected  in  Boston  itself  — to  re- 
turn when  the  relief  committee  was  dismissed. 
Fourteen  lives  were  lost  in  the  fire,  seven  being 
firemen.  For  the  families  of  these  the  relief 
committee  —  of  which  Otis  Norcross  was  treas- 
urer—  made  permanent  provision  by  placing 
in  the  hands  of  Martin  Brimmer,  Samuel  D. 
Warren,  Avery  Plumer,  William  Endicott,  Jr., 
and  George  Higginson  $81,870.90  in  trust.  To 
aid  working  women  and  girls  nearly  seventy 
thousand  dollars  was  expended  in  clothing, 
food,  rent,  sewing  machines  and  transportation; 
to  families  burned  out  and  to  other  sufferers,  coal, 
wood,  stoves,  furniture,  clothing  and  other  nec- 
essaries money  to  the  amount  of  nearly  seventy- 
five  thousand  dollars  was  expended,  while  almost 
twenty  thousand  dollars  was  invested  in  the 
work  of  relieving  the  men  who  had  lost  their 
employment  by  the  fire.  The  committee  seems 
to  have  acted  with  great  discretion  in  all  this 
administering  of  relief. 

Of  all  the  buildings  swept  away  by  the  fire 
Trinity    Church    was    perhaps    the    most   pic- 


aJ^lK-'Cfc 


OLD    TRINITY    CHURCH    AFTER    THE    BOSTON    FIRE. 
Page  361. 


■■'.  ..  ■■•  ■■      ...  .  ..■  --   .'■ 


ANOTHER    VIEW    OF    THE    FIRE    RUINS. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  359 

turesque.  Built  (in  1829)  of  stately  granite, 
with  a  tower  of  impressive  architecture,  it 
was  at  this  time  the  weekly  resort,  because  of 
the  preaching  of  the  young  Phillips  Brooks,  of 
a  large  and  varied  company  of  people.  Brooks 
had  come  here  from  Philadelphia  in  1869,  a 
handsome  young  bachelor  of  thirty-three,  filled 
with  immense  devotion  to  his  work  and  dis- 
tinguished by  rare  powers  of  eloquence.  It 
was  largely  through  the  influence  of  the  Hon. 
Robert  C.  Winthrop,  long  one  of  the  first 
citizens  of  Boston,  that  Brooks  had  been  called 
to  the  conservative  old  parish,  but  Winthrop's 
enthusiasm  over  the  young  preacher  was  soon 
justified  by  the  crowds  he  drew.  From  the 
very  beginning  of  Brooks's  incumbency  Sexton 
Dillon  had  hard  work  seating  the  throngs 
who  flocked  to  listen  to  him.  Vainly  did  the 
worthy  man  strive  to  meet  an  emergency  so 
wholly  unlike  anything  he  had  hitherto  known 
in  his  long  administration.  Then  he  tried  to 
sort  the  people  who  presented  themselves  for 
admission!  "Dillon  once  came  to  me  in  the 
vestry-room,"  said  Mr.  Brooks  in  speaking  of 
the  matter  to  a  friend,  "  to  tell  me  of  a  method 
he  had  devised  to  reduce  the  numbers  who 
sought  admittance  to  the  church.  '  When  a 
young  man  and  a  young  woman  come  together, 
I  separate  them,'  he  explained,  and  he  expected 
me  to  approve  the  fiendish  plan." 


360  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

The  journalistic  habit  of  giving  space  to 
current  church  news  seems  to  have  dated  from 
these  golden  days  in  old  Trinity.  I  find  the 
following  description  of  a  Sunday  morning 
there:  "  The  old  building  seems  the  fitting 
place  of  worship  for  the  solid  men  of  Boston. 
There  is  an  air  of  ancient  respectability  about 
it.  .  .  .  The  deep  roomy  pews,  thoughtfully 
padded,  seem  adjusted  for  sleeping,  and  though 
seven  can  sit  comfortably  in  them,  if  you 
humbly  ask  for  the  fifth  seat  in  some  of  them, 
beware  of  the  lofty  look  and  high-bred  scorn 
which  seems  to  say,  '  Are  not  the  galleries  free 
to  negro  servants  and  strangers?  ...  I  shall 
have  to  let  you  in,  I  suppose.  Take  that 
prayer-book  and  keep  quiet;  service  has  begun. 
Don't  you  see  Mr.  Brooks?  ' 

"  Yes,  we  do  see  the  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks, 
a  tall,  stout,  powerfully  built  man,  with  smooth, 
boyish  face  and  very  near-sighted  eyes,  which 
nevertheless,  by  the  help  of  glasses,  seem  to 
search  you  out  in  whatever  dark  corner  you 
may  be  hidden.  He  is  reading  the  service  with 
a  thin  voice  and  rapid,  breathless,  almost 
stuttering  delivery  and  yet  with  a  certain 
impulsive  and  pleading  earnestness  that  carries 
even  Congregationalists  onto  their  knees,  and 
takes  them  to  the  throne  of  grace. " 

Brooks  felt  very  keenly  the  loss  of  the  old 
church.    Plans  for  the  present  edifice  on  Copley 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  361 

Square  were  already  underway,  to  be  sure,  but 
that  he  had  a  great  fondness  for  old  Trinity 
we  see  from  his  letters  written  at  the  time. 
"  The  desolation  [of  the  fire]  is  bewildering. 
Old  Trinity  seemed  safe  all  night,  but  toward 
morning  the  fire  swept  into  her  rear  and  there 
was  no  chance.  She  went  at  four  in  the  morning. 
I  saw  her  well  afire,  inside  and  out,  carried  off 
some  books  and  robes  and  left  her.  She  went 
majestically  and  her  great  tower  stands  now 
as  solid  as  ever,  a  most  picturesque  and  stately 
ruin.  She  died  in  dignity.  I  did  not  know  how 
much  I  liked  the  great  gloomy  old  thing  till 
I  saw  her  windows  bursting  and  the  flame 
running  along  the  old  high  pews." 

Yet  Phillips  Brooks's  sermon  in  Huntington 
Hall,  the  following  Sunday,  was  full  of  an 
onward  and  upward  sweep,  of  insistence  that 
life  comes  through  death  —  the  lesson  of  the 
fire. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SOME     FAMOUS     VISITORS     AND     THE     WAY     WE 
ENTERTAINED    THEM 

MANY  of  the  famous  people  who  came  to 
Boston  for  a  visit  during  the  period 
covered  by  this  book  have  been  discussed 
in  connection  with  the  mission  which  brought 
them  here;  and  others  will,  for  lack  of  space, 
be  passed  over  entirely  or  merely  mentioned. 
But  the  visits  of  Charles  Dickens  in  1842 
and  in  1867  call  for  more  detailed  attention. 
His  first  coming  was  the  sensation  of  the  early 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  From  the  day 
of  his  arrival  in  the  city  press  and  people  vied 
with  each  other  to  do  him  honor  and  so  great 
was  his  vogue  that  a  wit  declared  him  "  Fanny 
Ellslerized,"  that  piquant  dancer  having  been 
similarly  lionized  during  her  stay  in  Boston. 
Three  days  after  his  arrival  in  Boston  Dickens 
gave  a  sitting  for  the  Francis  Alexander  portrait 
of  himself  long  owned  by  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields, 
and  as  great  a  throng  attended  him  from  the 
Tremont  House  —  his  headquarters  —  to  the 
artist's  studio  at  41  Tremont  Row  as  if  he  had 
been  Royalty.     Dickens  has  recorded  in  the 


IN   OLD   BOSTON  363 

"Boston"  chapter  of  his  American  Notes  his 
impressions  of  the  city  and  of  its  institutions 
during  this  visit  of  1842.  The  most  satisfying 
passage  is  that  which  describes  his  tour  of  the 
Perkins  Institution,  then  situated  in  South 
Boston,  and  his  wonder  at  what  had  there  been 
done  for  Laura  Bridgman,  Dr.  Howe's  famous 
pupil. 

During  Dickens's  visit  in  1867  he  was  enter- 
tained by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields  in 
the  charming  old  house  at  148  Charles  Street 
in  which  Mrs.  Fields  lived  till  she  died  among 
the  souvenirs  of  her  many  grateful  guests.  In 
that  pleasant  volume,  Biographical  Notes 
and  Personal  Sketches,  this  lady,  who  was 
Dickens's  hostess  on  Christmas  Eve  and  who 
afterwards,  that  same  night,  heard  him  read 
"the  Carol,"  paints  vividly  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  beloved  writer  was  received 
by  his  audience.  "  The  whole  house  rose  and 
cheered!  The  people  looked  at  him  with 
gratitude  as  one  who  held  a  candle  in  a  dark 
way." 

It  was  during  this  visit  that  there  occurred 
the  famous  Walking-Match,  posters  of  which 
are  now  dearly  prized  by  American  collectors 
of  Dickensiana.  Dickens  had  said  that  his 
agent,  George  Dolby,  could  outwalk  Osgood; 
but  James  T.  Fields  was  of  the  opinion  that 
his  partner,  Osgood,  was  the  better  man.    Ac- 


364  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

cordingly,  the  match  was  arranged  "  for  two 
hats  a  side  and  the  glory  of  their  respective 
countries "  (Dolby  was  an  Englishman,  of 
course) . 

The  time  set  for  the  contest  was  Feb.  29, 
1868,  and  the  course  was  to  be  over  the 
Mill  Dam  road  to  Newton  Centre,  a  route 
Dickens  and  Fields  had  already  traversed  in 
preparation  for  the  "  event."  When  the  author 
and  publisher  went  over  the  ground  they 
became  very  thirsty,  only  to  find  that  the 
stores  of  the  village  supplied  nothing  except  a 
few  oranges!  They  purchased  these,  however, 
and  sat  down  on  a  doorstep  to  enjoy  them.  In 
the  "  sporting  narrative  "  which  Dickens  had 
to  write  concerning  the  match  (won  by  Osgood) 
he  indulges  in  a  highly  characteristic  sentence 
about  this  incident: 

"  Six  miles  and  a  half,  good  measure,  from 
the  first  tree  in  the  Mill  Dam  road  lies  the  little 
village  (with  no  refreshments  in  it  but  five 
oranges  and  a  bottle  of  blacking)  of  Newton 
Centre." 

Mr.  Dolby,  in  speaking  of  the  "  Great 
Walking  Match,"  was  ever  wont  to  affirm  that 
England  must  have  won  had  not  Mrs.  Fields 
arrived  on  the  scene  in  her  carriage,  and,  turning 
around,  accompanied  Osgood  the  rest  of  the 
walk,  plying  him  the  whole  time  with  bread 
soaked  in  brandy.     All,  with  the  exception  of 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  365 

Osgood,  of  course,  felt  that  she  showed  great 
favoritism  in  this  respect:  but  she  frankly 
admitted  that  she  would  have  done  the  same 
by  the  Englishman  had  she  met  him  coming  in 
first. 

To  Dickens,  as  to  many  another  distinguished 
visitor  from  abroad,  Boston  gave  a  ball;  tickets 
for  the  function  that  bears  his  name  brought 
forty  dollars  each!  Usually,  these  great  balls 
were  given  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  which  was 
equipped  with  a  floor  made  in  sections  and  so 
arranged  that  it  could  be  fitted  on  over  the 
parquet  seats,  thus  giving  extensive  dancing 
space  on  a  level  with  the  stage.  Here  were 
held  a  number  of  functions  that  figure  in  the 
social  history  of  the  period.  The  Tigers'  Ball, 
February  28,  1859;  the  Mount  Vernon  Ball, 
March  4,  1859;  Firemen's  Military  and  Civic 
Ball,  March  18,  1859;  Grand  Juvenile  Ball, 
March  23,  1859;  National  Sailors'  Fair,  Novem- 
ber 7,  1864;  and  State  Military  Ball,  March 
5,  1866.  During  the  war  a  Fair  in  Aid  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission  also  took  place  here  and 
many  a  Bostonian,  still  living,  recalls  pleasantly 
the  splendid  entertainment  and  dance  given  in 
this  place  in  honor  of  the  Russian  Grand  Duke 
Alexis,  December  8,  1871. 

All  these  balls,  however,  pale  before  the 
memory  of  that  given  to  the  late  Edward  VII 
of  England  during  his  visit  to  Boston  in  1860. 


366  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

This  is  generally  known  as  the  Renfrew  ball 
because  it  was  as  Baron  Renfrew  that  the 
young  prince  was  travelling.  Entrance  to  the 
city  was  made  by  the  railroad  from  Albany 
and  the  Boston  Journal  of  October  18,  1860, 
records  as  an  important  item  of  news  the  fact 
that  the  prince  was  able  to  take  a  lunch  of 
"  cold  ham,  tongue  and  woodcock  while  the 
train  was  in  motion!"  The  prince  and  his 
suite  entered  by  the  station  in  Longwood,  were 
greeted  by  Mayor  Lincoln  and  then  made  their 
way,  attended  by  a  large  military  escort, 
through  Roxbury  to  his  quarters  in  the  Revere 
House.  On  the  following  day  the  young  prince 
—  he  was  then  nineteen  —  attended  among 
other  functions  a  musical  festival  in  Music 
Hall  at  which  twelve  hundred  children  sang 
to  the  accompaniment  of  an  orchestra  led  by 
Carl  Zerrahn.  This  the  prince  pronounced  the 
most  thoroughly  enjoyable  event  of  his  visit. 

But  it  is  upon  the  ball,  held  Thursday  even- 
ing, October  18,  that  chroniclers  of  the  visit 
are  wont  to  dwell  with  most  unction.  The  com- 
mittee in  charge  of  invitations  included  such 
imposing  personages  as  Longfellow,  Edward 
Everett  and  Jared  Sparks;  but  lesser  people 
might  have  been  more  efficient.  The  crowd  was 
so  great  that  three  ladies  fainted  on  the  way 
to  the  ball  room  and  one  had  a  fit.  Possibly, 
however,  it  was  the  flutter  incident  to  meeting 


v      00 

rt  oo 


i        , 


^1 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  367 

a  young  prince,  and  not  the  crowd,  which  was 
responsible  for  this;    one  newspaper  observes 
that  "  the  excitement  that  agitated  the  minds 
of  the  young  ladies  as  they  prepared  to  enter 
was  very  great  and  betrayed  itself  in  flushed 
faces,  bewildered  looks  and  disarranged  gowns." 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  Green,  mayor  of  Boston  in  1882, 
and  for  more  than  fifty  years  a  prominent  mem- 
ber  of  the   Massachusetts   Historical   Society, 
has  said  that  the  ball  came  near  precipitating 
a  crisis  in  governmental  affairs,  which,  in  its 
,  seriousness,  was  not  unlike  the  etiquette  differ- 
ences between  President  Washington  and  Gov- 
|  ernor  Hancock,  in  1789.     The  question  of  the 
i  hour  as  regards  the  ball,   was,   "  Who  should 
•  dance  in  the  first  set  with  the  prince?  "     This 
strictly  social  discussion  centered  around  the 
wife  of  the  governor  of  the  State  and  the'equally 
1  worthy   helpmeet   of   the   mayor   of  the   city. 
Which  lady  should  have  the  honor  of  being  the 
prince's  first  partner? 

Finally,  it  was  amicably  decided  that  to  the 
wife  of  the  mayor  belonged  the  honors  of  this 
occasion  inasmuch  as  the  prince  was  the  city's 
guest  particularly.  Mrs.  Banks  was  accorded 
the  prince's  hand  in  the  second  quadrille. 
The  prince  did  his  duty  nobly,  dancing  no 
i  less  than  seventeen  times,  and  all  who  met 
i  him  were  charmed  with  his  grace  and  his 
simple  unaffected  manners.      Of   the   maidens 

i 


368  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

who  danced  with  him  there  long  survived  in 
Boston :  Mrs.  John  Quincy  Adams,  nee  Miss 
Fanny  Crowinshield ;  Mrs.  Greely  S.  Curtis, 
(Harriot  Appleton) ;  Mrs.  F.  Gordon  Dexter, 
nee  Susan  Amory ;  and  Mrs.  George  E.  Amoryr 
who  was  Miss  Carrie  Bigelow.  Among  the 
throng  of  girls  *  who  would  fain  have  danced  with 
him  but  did  not  was  Fanny  Carter  Ronalds,  — 
then  a  bride  of  a  year,  —  the  famous  Boston 
beauty  of  the  period,  who,  later,  made  her  home 
for  many  years  in  London,  where  she  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  King  Edward  and  of  Queen 
Alexandra.  The  news  of  her  death  followed 
closely  (in  1910)  that  of  the  King  who  was  a  boy 
in  1860.  The  partner  who  was  born  an  Apple- 
ton  still  lives  to  recall  the  ball. 

The  descriptions  of  the  gowns  worn  at  the 
Renfrew  ball  make  very  entertaining  reading 
and  I  would  like  to  quote  several  of  them,  did 
space  allow.  But  this,  of  a  literary  lady  who 
appears  to  have  "  helped  the  reporter  out "  is 
too  delicious  not  to  be  given: 

"  Miss  Martha  Haines  Buitt,  A.  M.,  the 
talented  and  accomplished  literary  belle  of 
Norfolk,  Va.,  the  author  of  '  Leisure  Moments/ 
and  the  contributor  of  several  highly  popular 
pieces  to  the  serial  publications  of  the  day, 

1  The  "  female  preponderance  "  must  have  been  appalling  on 
this  occasion.  Besides  the  1100  tickets  admitting  lady  and  gentle- 
man, which  were  sold,  there  were  525  for  ladies  only. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  369 

made  an  elegant  appearance.  She  was  attired 
in  a  rich  white  silk  dress,  with  lace  overdress, 
the  body  with  deep  points,  the  dress  looped  with 
mauve  imperatrice  ribbons,  and  studied  [sic. 
and  how  appropriate!]  at  intervals  with  en- 
ameled flowers  of  same  color,  bordered  with 
gold,  bertha  of  lace,  ribbon  and  flowers  to  cor- 
respond with  skirt.  Hair  braided  in  massive 
grecian  braids  and  decorated  with  white  flowers 
and  pearls.  This  dress  was  an  exact  fac  simile 
of  one  worn  by  the  Empress  Eugenie  on  a  recent 
occasion.  Miss  Buitt  had  a  very  elegant 
bouquet  of  New  York  manufacture,  from  the 
floral  depot  of  Chevalier  &  Brower,  523  Broad- 
way, under  the  St.  Nicholas  hotel.  It  repre- 
sented an  imperial  star,  and  was  composed  of 
blush  rosebuds,  tuberoses,  heartsease,  acanthus 
and  sweet  alyssum;  it  was  supported  by  an 
elegant  silver  holder  ornamented  with  a  deep 
white  silk  fringe.  Miss  Buitt  attracted  much 
attention  for  her  admirable  figure,  her  exquisite 
costume,  and  for  her  graceful  movements  in 
the  dance." 

Dancing  lasted  until  half  past  four  in  the 
morning,  supper  having  been  served  at  midnight 
in  the  Melodeon,  next  door,  to  which  a  passage 
had  been  cut  through  for  the  occasion;  but 
not  until  three  o'clock  was  there  room  to  waltz 
comfortably  in  the  huge  auditorium.  Yet  the 
visitors  as  well  as  those  who  entertained  them 


370  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

seemed  to  find  the  affair  enjoyable  and  the 
secretary  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  wrote  in 
his  published  diary  of  the  Boston  trip  that  every- 
thing about  it  "  was  in  better  taste  than  the 
entertainment  of  the  New  Yorkers." 

Other  foreigners  of  high  degree  whom  the 
City  of  Boston  entertained  during  this  period 
were  Louis  Napoleon,  in  1858;  the  Chinese 
embassy  in  1868;  the  Japanese  ambassadors 
in  1872  and  Dom  Pedro  II,  Emperor  of  Brazil, 
in  1876.  The  emperor  had  expressed  himself 
as  desirous  of  receiving  private  social  attentions 
only  from  Mrs.  Louis  Agassiz  and  Professor 
Longfellow,  but  he  was  anxious  to  meet  Whittier, 
with  whom  he  had  corresponded  both  in  regard 
to  poetry  and  the  emancipation  of  slaves,  and 
Mrs.  Agassiz  arranged  that  they  should  come 
together  at  Mrs.  Sargent's.  When  they  met  the 
emperor  would  have  embraced  the  poet,  Latin 
fashion,  but  the  diffident  Friend  shyly  avoided 
the  encounter  and  led  the  way  to  a  sofa  where, 
for  a  half  hour,  the  two  talked  happily. 

There  is  an  amusing  story  connected  with 
Dom  Pedro's  visit.  He  went  to  climb  Bunker 
Hill  at  six  a.  m.,  and,  of  course,  found  the  keeper 
abed.  That  functionary,  when  roused,  was  by 
no  means  predisposed  in  favor  of  his  early 
visitor,  particularly  when  he  found  the  stranger 
had  to  borrow  fifty  cents  of  his  hackman  in 
order    to    get    into    the    monument.      Richard 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  371 

Frothingham,  who  lived  in  Charlestown,  hap- 
pened in  at  the  lodge,  two  hours  later,  and, 
seeing  Dom  Pedro's  signature  in  the  visitors' 
book,  asked  the  keeper  how  the  emperor  looked. 
Putting  on  his  glasses  to  examine  the  hand- 
writing, the  faithful  guardian  of  the  granite- 
pile  muttered  crossly,  "  Emperor,  pooh !  that's 
a  dodge;  that  fellow  was  only  a  scapegrace 
without  a  cent  in  his  pocket." 

Two  years  after  Dom  Pedro's  visit  to  America 
there  came  to  this  country,  and  in  due  season, 
to  Boston,  one  foreign  visitor  who  has  always 
greatly  interested  me.  She  was  Mrs.  Anne 
Gilchrist,  friend  of  the  Rossettis,  beloved  of 
Walt  Whitman  and  especially  interesting  to 
women  of  our  time  because  she  was  the  first 
woman  publicly  to  express  admiration  for  that 
puzzling  volume,  Leaves  of  Grass. 

It  was  from  New  England,  as  we  might 
expect,  that  the  strongest  opposition  in  this 
country  to  Whitman's  poems  came  originally. 
On  Boston  Common,  indeed,  were  fought  out 
the  first  skirmishes  of  the  battle  afterwards 
waged  so  long  and  so  mercilessly  against  Whit- 
man's book,  particularly  the  "  Children  of 
Adam  "  portion  of  it.  Emerson  and  Whitman 
were  warm  friends  at  the  time  of  the  book's 
appearance  and  the  Concord  philosopher  rea- 
soned and  remonstrated  for  hours  with  the 
revolutionary  Whitman  concerning  the  desira- 


372  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

bility  of  omitting  some  of  the  poems.  Up  and 
down  the  mall  of  Boston  Common  walked  the 
two,  vigorously  discussing  the  thing.  In  his 
Diary  Whitman  records  that  every  reason 
Emerson  advanced  for  the  omission  of  the  poems 
in  question  was  sound,  every  argument  un- 
answerable. 

"  Yet,"  he  comments,  "  I  felt  down  in  my  soul 
the  clear  and  unmistakable  conviction  to  disobey 
all  and  pursue  my  own  way."  Which  decision  he 
forthwith  expressed  to  Emerson.  That  famous 
talk  on  the  Common  which  resulted  in  Whitman's 
adherence  to  Emerson's  own  precept,  "  Insist 
on  yourself,"  —  as  set  forth  in  the  essay  on 
Self  Reliance,  —  occurred  May  12,  1863.  Six 
years  later  a  copy  of  the  resulting  volume  was 
sent  to  William  Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel's 
brother,  and  by  him  lent  to  Mrs.  Gilchrist. 
Rossetti  knew  that  this  woman,  who  was  his 
close  friend,  had  both  the  heart  and  the  brain 
to  appreciate  Whitman's  integrity  of  purpose, 
whether  she  should  or  should  not  admire  all 
that  he  had  written,  but  he  was  somewhat 
surprised  that  she  at  once  accepted  Whitman 
almost  in  his  entirety,  and  that  with  a  fervor 
such  as  the  poet  had  never  before  called  forth 
from  a  woman. 

"  What  I,  in  my  heart,  believe  of  Whitman," 
she  then  wrote,  "  is  that  he  takes  up  the  thread 
where  Christ  left  it;    that  he  inaugurates  in 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  373 

his  own  person  a  new  phase  of  religion,  a  re- 
ligion which  casts  out  utterly  the  abjectness  of 
fear,  sees  the  nimbus  around  every  head,  knowing 
that  evil,  like  its  prototype,  darkness,  is  not  a 
thing  at  all,  but  the  absence  of  a  thing  —  of 
light.  ..."  And  of  the  "  Children  of  Adam  " 
Mrs.  Gilchrist  made  a  descriptive  phrase  that 
will  last  for  all  time  when  she  said:  "This  is 
not  the  heights  brought  down  to  the  depths,  but 
the  depths  lifted  up  level  with  the  sunlit  heights 
that  they  may  become  clear  and  sunlit,  too." 

To  this  woman  who  hastened  to  send  him 
ardent  expression  of  her  faith  Whitman's  heart 
almost  necessarily  went  out  in  warm  affection. 
The  letters  which  passed  between  the  two 
during  the  eight  years  that  intervened  before 
Mrs.  Gilchrist  came  to  this  country  constitute 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  correspondences 
of  our  time.  They  have  recently  been  given 
to  the  world  by  the  lady's  family. 

Mrs.  Gilchrist's  headquarters,  while  in  Bos- 
ton, were  at  39  Somerset  Street,  and  she  has 
written  that  she  made  more  acquaintances 
during  her  two  months'  stay  here  than  during 
her  whole  life  before.  But  I  have  sought  in 
vain  for  a  Boston  woman  who  remembers 
meeting  her.  On  her  way  to  Boston  from 
Philadelphia,  however,  Mrs.  Gilchrist  spent 
some  time  in  beautiful  Northampton,  a  town 
which,  socially,  reminded  her  of  Cranford,  but 


374  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

"  Cranford  with  a  difference."  For  though  the 
place  had  its  maiden  ladies  and  widows,  its 
tea  parties  with  "  a  solitary  beau  in  the  centre 
like  the  one  white  flower  in  the  middle  of  a 
nosegay,"  she  found  the  Northampton  ladies 
much  more  vital  than  those  of  Cranford  and  her 
heart  went  out  to  them.  I  once  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  two  of  the  ladies  who  entertained  her 
in  Northampton  and  they  recalled  for  my  benefit 
the  pleasure  they  had  had  in  receiving  this 
guest  from  England.  She  was  dressed,  they  said, 
in  simple  black  silk,  that  afternoon  she  came 
from  her  rooms  at  the  Round  Hill  House  to  drink 
their  tea  and  present  a  letter  given  her  by  Mon- 
cure  Conway,  whom  a  cousin  of  their  own  had 
married.  It  happened  that  they  had  ice-cream 
for  supper  and  her  naive  pleasure  in  this  dish, 
which  was  then  quite  a  delicacy,  especially  im- 
pressed itself  on  the  mind  of  her  hostess.  After 
supper  Mrs.  Gilchrist  sang  some  quaint  old 
songs  very  sweetly,  and  once,  when  Tennyson 
was  mentioned  as  "  a  great  poet,"  she  said 
quickly,  "  Ah,  but  you  have  a  much  greater 
one  here  in  Walt  Whitman." 

In  his  poem,  "  Going  Somewhere,"  written 
after  Mrs.  Gilchrist's  death  in  1885,  Whitman 
calls  this  ardent  disciple  of  his  his  "  science 
friend,"  and  his  "  noblest  woman-friend."  But 
the  verse  itself  gives  no  hint  of  the  great  affec- 
tion which  inspired  this  "  memory  leaf  for  her 


rCl 


H       to 

DC       Cj 

<3 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  375 

dear  sake."  It  is,  indeed,  Whitman  at  his 
very  dry  est.  Which  proves  that  he  could  be 
impersonal  in  treating  a  subject  upon  which 
he  felt  deeply.  His  moment  of  deepest  self- 
revelation  seems  to  have  come  later  when, 
speaking  to  Horace  Traubel  of  Rossetti's  warm 
brotherly  love  for  Mrs.  Gilchrist,  he  said,  "  She 
was  his  friend;  she  was  more  than  my  friend. 
I  feel  like  Hamlet  when  he  said  forty  thousand 
brothers  could  not  feel  what  he  felt  for  Ophelia."1 

Another  literary  woman  who  came  to  Boston 
during  the  period  we  are  here  considering,  — 
though,  in  point  of  years,  her  visit  ante-dated 
Mrs.  Gilchrist's  by  a  whole  quarter  of  a  century, 
—  was  Miss  Delia  Bacon,  originator  of  the 
so-called  Baconian  theory.  In  Mrs.  John 
Farrar's  Recollections  of  Seventy  Years  may 
be  found  a  highly  interesting  account  of  this 
writer's  unusual  personality  and  of  her  sad 
decline.  "  She  was  the  first  lady  whom  I  ever 
heard  deliver  a  public  lecture  and  the  hall  in 
which  she  spoke  was  so  crowded  that  I  could 
not  get  a  seat;  but  she  spoke  so  well  that  I 
felt  no  fatigue  from  standing." 

This  Boston  course  was  so  successful  that 
Mrs.  Farrar  persuaded  Miss  Bacon  to  give  a 
series  of  talks  on  history  in  Cambridge  and 
arranged  for  her  a  very  appreciative  class  which 
used  to  meet  in  the  large  parlor  of  the  Brattle 

1  With  Walt  Whitman  in  Camden. 


376  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

House.  It  was  after  this  course  had  been 
successfully  completed  that  Miss  Bacon  first 
began  to  talk  to  her  friends  about  going  to 
England.  They  encouraged  her  in  the  idea, 
thinking  that  she  could  there  make  a  success 
of  her  lectures  just  as  she  had  done  here. 
"  But,"  says  Mrs.  Farrar,  "  after  talking  this 
up  for  a  time  I  perceived  that  I  was  talking  in 
vain.  She  had  no  notion  of  going  to  England 
to  teach  history;  all  she  wanted  to  go  for 
was  to  obtain  proof  of  the  truth  of  her  theory, 
that  Shakespeare  did  not  write  the  plays 
attributed  to  him,  but  that  Lord  Bacon  did. 
This  was  sufficient  to  prevent  my  ever  again 
encouraging  her  or  talking  with  her  about 
Shakespeare.  The  lady  whom  she  was  visiting 
put  her  copy  of  his  works  out  of  sight,  and 
never  allowed  herself  to  converse  with  her  on 
this,  her  favorite  subject.  We  considered  it 
dangerous  for  Miss  Bacon  to  dwell  on  this  fancy, 
and  thought  that,  if  indulged,  it  might  become 
a  monomania,  which  it  subsequently  did." 

A  "  Life  "  of  this  gentle  monomaniac  was 
written  in  1888  by  Theodore  Bacon,  her  nephew 
(who  has  since  died),  and  I  think  I  have  never 
read  a  sadder  book.  The  little  Delia  was  born, 
we  there  learn,  February  2,  1811,  in  a  small 
Ohio  town  whither  her  father  had  gone  from 
Connecticut,  to  pursue  his  labors  as*  a  mis- 
sionary.     Things   did   not   prosper*   however, 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  377 

with  the  pioneer  preacher,  so,  with  his  delicate 
wife  and  his  six  little  children,  he  soon  journeyed 
back  to  Connecticut  where,  in  1817,  he  died 
leaving  a  very  helpless  family.  Schoolteaching, 
story-writing  and  even  an  attempt  at  dramatic 
composition  occupied  Miss  Bacon  in  the  years 
preceding  her  success  as  a  lecturer.  Her  biog- 
rapher hints  at  an  unhappy  love-affair  which, 
coming  to  her  at  the  mature  age  of  thirty-five, 
may  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  un- 
settling of  her  mind.  By  1853,  she  could  think 
of  nothing  but  of  her  Baconian  prepossession 
and  she  found  the  burden  of  her  historical 
lessons  an  intolerable  one. 

Emerson  was  very  kind  to  Miss  Bacon  from 
the  beginning  of  his  acquaintance  with  her, 
about  this  time,  but  he  never  in  the  least 
believed  in  her  theory  of  the  authorship  of 
Shakespeare's  plays,  always  referring  to  it  as 
a  "  brilliant  paradox."  From  him  she  was 
obliged  to  bear  this  but  she  would  not  bear  it 
from  her  brother,  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon,  a  suc- 
cessful and  much  respected  clergyman,  and 
there  followed  an  estrangement  between  them. 
The  one  thing  of  which  she  could  now  think 
was  of  England,  to  which  place  she  sailed  May 
14,  1853,  armed  with  introductory  letters  from 
Emerson  to  many  people  of  literary  prominence. 
Most  of  these  letters  she  never  used;  she  was 
much   too   occupied   with   what    Carlyle   soon 


378  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

came  to  call  her  "  tragically  quixotic  enter- 
prise "  to  cultivate  society.  But  the  Carlyles 
were  most  kind  to  her  and,  after  her  first  bold 
and  brilliant  paper  had  been  published,  — 
through  Emerson's  good  offices,  —  in  the  Jan- 
uary, 1856,  number  of  Putnam's  Monthly, 
Hawthorne,  who  was  now  United  States  consul 
in  Liverpool,  also  aided  her,  materially  as  well 
as  by  his  friendly  sympathy. 

Nothing  in  all  Hawthorne's  life  is  more 
honorable  than  the  noble  generosity*  and  the 
unfailing  helpfulness  which  he  bestowed  on 
this  forlorn  countrywoman  of  his,  whom  he 
never  met  but  once  and  who  was  certainly  a 
very  trying  literary  aspirant  for  one  of  his 
nature  to  deal  with.  When  the  lady  spoke  to 
him  contemptuously  of  the  "  Old  Player  "  he 
told  her  that  she  really  grieved  him.  Whereupon 
she  replied,  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  hurt  your 
feelings  with  my  profane  allusions  to  the  Earl 
of  Leicester's  groom,  a  witty  fellow  enough  in 
his  way.  But  the  person  you  love  and  reverence 
is  not  touched  by  my  proceeding.  He  is  the 
one  I  am  at  work  for." 

Before  the  two  met,  the  final  blow  came  to 
Miss  Bacon.  Several  packets  of  manuscript, 
which  she  had  entrusted  to  Mr.  Emerson  for 
use  in  Putnam's,  were  lost  in  transportation 
and  in  addition  the  magazine  refused  to  go  on 
with  the  serial  publication  of  the  work.     Miss 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  379 

Bacon's  friends  began  to  urge  her  by  every  mail 
to  come  home.  But  this  she  absolutely  refused 
to  do.  To  Hawthorne  she  wrote,  "  I  will  not 
go.  I  will  open  a  '  cent  shop  '  in  my  House  of 
Seven  Gables  first.  There  is  not  anything 
which  is  honest  that  I  will  not  do  rather  than 
put  the  Atlantic  Ocean  between  me  and  what 
I  came  to  find." 

Hawthorne  has  told  in  his  English  note 
book  of  his  single  visit  to  Miss  Bacon.  "I 
was  ushered  up  two  (and  I  rather  believe 
three)  pair  of  stairs"  he  there  records,  "into 
a  parlor  somewhat  humbly  furnished,  and  told 
that  Miss  Bacon  would  soon  come.  There 
were  a  number  of  books  on  the  table  and, 
looking  into  them,  I  found  that  every  one  of 
them  had  some  reference,  more  or  less  im- 
mediate, to  her  Shakespearian  theory,  —  a 
volume  of  Raleigh's  History  of  the  World, 
a  volume  of  Montaigne,  a  volume  of  Lord 
Bacon's  letters,  a  volume  of  Shakespeare's 
Plays,  and  on  another  table  lay  a  large  roll  of 
manuscript  which  I  presume  to  have  been  a 
portion  of  her  work.  To  be  sure,  there  was  a 
pocket  Bible  among  the  books,  but  everything 
else  referred  to  the  one  despotic  idea  that  had 
got  possession  of  her  mind.  .  .  .  Unquestion- 
ably she  was  a  monomaniac;  these  overmas- 
tering ideas  about  the  authorship  of  Shake- 
speare's plays,  and  the  deep  political  philosophy 


380  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

concealed  beneath  the  surface  of  them,  had 
completely  thrown  her  off  her  balance;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  they  had  wonderfully  devel- 
oped her  intellect  and  made  her  what  she  could 
not  otherwise  have  become. 

"  I  had  expected  (the  more  shame  for  me, 
having  no  other  ground  of  such  expectation 
than  that  she  was  a  literary  woman)  to  see 
a  very  homely,  uncouth,  elderly  personage 
and  was  quite  agreeably  disappointed  by  her 
aspect.  She  was  rather  uncommonly  tall  and 
had  a  striking  and  expressive  face,  dark  hair, 
dark  eyes,  which  shone  with  an  inward  light  as 
soon  as  she  began  to  speak,  and  by  and  by  a 
color  came  into  her  cheeks  and  made  her  look 
almost  young.  ...  I  could  suppose  her  to 
have  been  handsome  and  exceedingly  attractive 
once.  .  .  .  She  assured  me  that  she  was  per- 
fectly happy  and  I  could  well  conceive  it;  for 
Miss  Bacon  imagined  herself  to  have  received 
(what  is  certainly  the  greatest  boon  ever 
assigned  to  mortals)  a  high  mission  in  the  world 
with  adequate  powers  for  its  accomplish- 
ment. ..." 

Yet  the  privations  the  poor  lady  suffered 
while  preparing  her  manuscript  for  publication 
were  terrible.  She  lived  on  the  poorest  food, 
was  often  without  the  means  of  having  a  fire 
in  her  chamber,  and  she  told  Mrs.  Farrar  that 
she   wrote   a   great  part   of  her   large   octavo 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  381 

volume    sitting  up  in   bed    in    order  to  keep 
warm. 

The  introduction  which  Hawthorne  wrote 
for  the  book  when  it  came  out  is  very  straight- 
forward and  very  touching.  In  it  he  says  that 
the  author  "  has  given  nothing  less  than  her 
life  to  the  work."  And  this  was  literally  true. 
For  scarcely  had  the  monumental  Philosophy 
of  Shakespeare's  Plays  Unfolded,  been  put  be- 
tween covers  when  Miss  Bacon's  mind  failed 
utterly.  Through  the  good  offices  of  Emerson 
and  Hawthorne  she  was  then  brought  back  to 
her  family  by  a  young  relative  and,  after  pass- 
ing some  months  in  a  "  Retreat "  at  Hartford, 
died  in  that  city  of  her  childhood  September 
2,  1859.  Her  best  epitaph  was  pronounced 
by  Hawthorne  where  he  says,  "  I  know  not 
why  we  should  hesitate  to  believe  that  the 
immortal  poet  may  have  met  her  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  better  world  and  led  her  in,  reassuring 
her  with  friendly  and  comfortable  words,  and 
thanking  her  (yet  with  a  smile  of  gentle  humor 
in  his  eyes  at  the  thought  of  certain  mistaken 
speculations)  for  having  interpreted  him  to 
mankind  so  well." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BOSTON   AS   A    LITERARY   CENTRE 

THERE  is  a  stiff-necked  reluctance  on  the 
part  of  certain  American  cities  to  ac- 
knowledge that  Boston  is  or  ever  has 
been  a  literary  centre.  Even  during  that  golden 
age  when  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Holmes 
and  Whittier  here  sang  together;  Bancroft,  Pres- 
cott,  Motley  and  Parkman  here  wrote  history, 
Garrison,  Phillips,  Parker  and  Sumner  here 
preached  reform  —  and  Thomas  Gold  Appleton 
flitted  about  from  circle  to  circle,  cheering  them 
all  with  his  wit l  —  magazine  articles  used  occa- 
sionally to  appear  questioning  Boston's  claim 
to  literary  distinction ! 

Emerson  was,  of  course,  Boston-born  (his 
early  home  was  on  Summer  Street  near  what  is 
now  the  corner  of  Chauncy  Street),  and  he 
occupied  a  pulpit  here  as  a  young  man.  All 
his  life  he  came  back  and  forth  to  the  city 
from  his  chosen  retreat  in  Concord  and  he 
never  lost  his  love  for  it.  Longfellow's  relations 
with  Boston  were  of  a  much  more  casual  kind. 

1  Emerson  called  him  "  the  first  conversationalist  in  America." 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  383 

The  lode-star  which  drew  him  oftenest  to  the 
city  was  Father  Taylor,  whose  preaching  in 
North  Square  to  a  devoted  company  of  sailors 
seems  greatly  to  have  attracted  the  Cambridge 
poet  and  scholar. 

Lowell's  closest  association  with  Boston  was 
about  the  year  1857,  when  he  became  first 
editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  sl  position  which 
he  held  for  four  years.  Holmes,  however,  whom 
Lowell  stipulated  should  be  "  the  first  con- 
tributor to  be  engaged  "  for  the  new  magazine 
if  he  were  to  accept  its  editorship,  may  well  be 
called  the  most  typical  Bostonian  that  our 
modern  Athens  has  ever  known.  To  be  sure, 
he  was  born  in  Cambridge;  but  almost  his 
entire  life  of  eighty-five  years  was  spent  in 
Boston  and  he  was  very  likely  speaking  of 
himself  when  he  said  that  for  a  Bostonian  the 
State-House  is  the  hub  of  the  solar  system. 
By  reason  of  this  remark  as  well  as  because  he 
is  identified  with  no  less  than  three  Boston 
streets  —  besides  the  "  Long  Path  "  which 
stretches  from  Joy  Street  to  Boylston  Street  on 
the  Common  —  there  is  no  danger  that  his 
name  will  soon  cease  to  be  linked  with  that  of  the 
old  town  whose  very  ground  he  loved.  "  I 
have  bored  this  ancient  city  through  and  through 
in  my  daily  travels,"  he  makes  the  Autocrat 
say,  "  until  I  know  it  as  an  old  inhabitant  of 
a  Cheshire  knows  his   cheese."     For  eighteen 


384  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

years  he  lived  in  Montgomery  Place,  now 
Bosworth  Street;  then  from  1859-1871  he  made 
his  home  at  164  Charles  Street,  there  writ- 
ing, among  other  things,  the  Professor  at  the 
Breakfast  Table,  Elsie  Venner  and  his  fa- 
mous poem,  "  Dorothy  Q."  And  when  Charles 
Street  became  too  noisy,  he  moved  to  296 
Beacon  Street,  where  his  study  in  the  rear  of 
the  house  overlooked  the  Charles  River  to 
Cambridge   and  beyond. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  that  Holmes  was  nearly 
fifty  years  old  when,  through  Lowell's  acumen, 
he  first  came  into  prominence  as  a  literary  man. 
He  has  naively  described  his  own  surprise  at 
this  metamorphosis:  "I,  who  felt  myself 
outside  the  charmed  circle  drawn  around  the 
scholars  and  poets  of  Cambridge  and  Concord, 
having  given  myself  to  other  studies  and  duties, 
wondered  somewhat  when  Mr.  Lowell  insisted 
upon  my  becoming  a  contributor.  I  looked  at 
the  old  Portfolio  and  said  to  myself :  '  Too 
late!  too  late!  This  tarnished  gold  will  never 
brighten,  these  battered  covers  will  stand  no 
more  wear  and  tear;  close  them  and  leave  them 
to  the  spider  and  the  bookworm.'  " 

But  Lowell  knew  what  he  was  about.  He  had 
been  present  at  many  a  dinner  which  Holmes 
made  brilliant  by  his  wonderful  talk  and  his 
occasional  poems,  and  he  applied  a  friendly 
pressure  to  which  the  little  professor  cheerily 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  385 

responded.  Already  the  "  first  contributor  "  had 
christened  the  new  magazine  The  Atlantic, 
and  when  his  department,  The  Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast  Table,  was  announced,  the  success 
of  the  venture  became  assured.  To  be  sure, 
there  were  many  who  did  not  know  what  the 
nom  de  plume  meant,  and  it  was  a  joke,  which 
may  also  have  been  a  truth,  "  that  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  well-known  religious  weekly  as- 
sumed the  new  department  to  be  one  given  over 
to  cook-book  matters!  " 

Whittier  carried  a  Boston  latchkey  during 
the  early  part  of  his  life.  For  eight  months,  in 
1829,  while  he  was  editing  The  Manufacturer 
he  lived  with  Rev.  William  Collier  at  30  Federal 
Street  where  Garrison  also  lodged.  During  the 
strenuous  anti-slavery  days  he  used  to  stop, 
while  in  Boston,  at  the  Marlborough  Hotel,  of 
which  mention  was  made  in  the  chapter  on  the 
old  hostelries,  and,  later,  he  was  often  the 
guest  of  Governor  Claflin  at  the  spacious  house 
numbered  63  Mt.  Vernon  Street,  which  all  but 
adjoins  that  made  famous  as  the  Boston  home  of 
Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

It  is  hard  to  say  whether  Aldrich  is  more 
intimately  associated  with  Ponkapog,  which  I 
assure  you  is  real  though  many  have  supposed 
it  to  be  as  fictitious  as  Puritania,  or  with  this 
house  at  59  Mt.  Vernon  Street.  Since  my  own 
memories  of  him  are  connected  with  the  latter 


386  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

place  we  will  talk  of  that,  however.  Mt. 
Vernon  Street  is  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the 
world.  Its  houses  have  an  air  of  old-fashioned 
solidity  and  of  comfort  not  to  be  found  in  any 
on  Boston's  "  made  land,"  while  from  the  top 
of  the  hill,  —  and  Aldrich's  house  is  just  at  the 
apex,  —  one  can  see  the  beautiful  Charles  River, 
winding  lazily  into  the  distance.  Some  of  the 
homes  retain  the  little  blue  panes  of  glass,  by 
passing  through  which  the  sun  was  supposed  to 
acquire  even  more  than  its  natural  salubrity, 
and  in  front  of  the  Aldrich  house,  though  it  is 
in  the  very  heart  of  Boston,  is  a  gay  little  patch 
of  lawn  upon  which  the  sun  through  the  adjacent 
trees  makes  quaint  arabesques  of  shade. 

To  reach  the  study,  which  was  the  heart  of 
the  house,  one  climbed  a  fascinating  flight  of 
winding  stairs,  —  giving  glimpses  here  and  there 
of  all  kinds  of  beautiful  things,  Oriental  rugs, 
pictures  and  bits  of  statuary,  —  or  else,  en- 
trusting one  self  to  a  tiny  iron  cage,  was  literally 
lifted,  by  a  man  above  and  a  woman  below,  — 
right  into  the  presence  of  the  poet.  Aldrich 
must  have  been  a  singularly  fair-minded  man. 
He  and  Whitman  never  got  on  —  so  widely 
differentiated  in  temperament  were  they  — 
and  I  don't  think  the  younger  poet  could  easily 
have  forgiven  the  elder  for  the  way  in  which, 
one  day  at  Pfaff 's,  he  replied,  to  his  eager,  "  Oh, 
Walt,   did    you   know  I  had   a  poem   in   this 


THOMAS    BAILEY   ALDRICH  S    HOME    AT    PONKAPOG. 


THOMAS    BAJLEY   ALDRICH'S    STUDY,    59    MT.    VERNON    STREET. 

From  a  photograph  oy  Louis  A.  Holman. 


^^§ft 


OLD    BOSTON    CUSTOM    HOUSE    IN    WHICH    HAWTHORNE    SERVED    AS    A 
YOUNG   MAN. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  387 

week's  Home  Journal?"  with  a  nonchalant, 
''Oh,  yes,  Tom.  They  shoved  the  paper  under 
my  door  this  morning  and  I  heard  your  little 
tinkle."  Yet  on  the  walls  of  Aldrich's  study, 
I  noticed  opposite  a  portrait  of  Edwin  Booth  a 
photograph  of  Walt  Whitman ! 

Bancroft  and  Hawthorne  can  be  more  easily 
connected  with  the  Boston  Custom  House  than 
with  any  other  institution  of  the  city,  for  it  was 
while  the  historian  was  collector  of  the  Port 
that  he  gave  Hawthorne  that  place  in  the 
government's  service  from  which  the  young 
genius  was  able  to  save  money  enough  to  buy 
some  stock  in  Brook  Farm.  Hawthorne,  be- 
cause of  his  shy  temperament  and  his  poverty, 
was  so  obscure  as  to  have  been  practically 
unknown  in  Boston  during  this  period.  His 
son-in-law  records  that  his  chief  distinction,  to 
the  popular  eye,  at  this  time,  lay  in  the  fact  that 
he  was  extremely  fond  of  martial  music  and 
could  generally  be  found  —  "a  tall  shapely 
figure  rendered  military  by  the  thick  mustache, 
—  following  any  procession  headed  by  a  band!  " 

The  historian  Prescott  belongs  undeniably 
to  Boston.  The  house  at  55  Beacon  Street  in 
which  he  lived  from  1845  to  1859  is  still  standing 
and  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of  the  old 
homes  opposite  the  Common.  Here,  he  wrote 
the  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru  and  the 
History  of  the  Reign  of  Philip  the  Second, 


388  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

That  Boston  home  of  John  Lothrop  Motley 
in  whose  garret  he,  as  a  lad,  used  to  play  with 
Wendell  Phillips  and  Tom  Appleton,  was  on 
Walnut  Street,  but  it  is  with  the  houses  at  11 
Chestnut  Street  and  at  2  Park  Street  that 
the  later  life  of  the  author  of  the  Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic  is  associated.  Parkman,  too,  is 
identified  with  Chestnut  Street.  For  nearly 
thirty  years  he  occupied  the  house  which  is 
there  numbered  fifty,  painstakingly  working 
out,  without  the  use  of  his  eyes,  his  marvellous 
series  of  works  dealing  with  France  and  England 
in  North  America. 

One  thing  which  has  always  helped  to  make 
Boston  a  literary  centre  —  and  will  continue 
so  to  do  in  spite  of  the  envious  elsewhere — is 
its  great  library  advantages.  Colonel  Higginson, 
when  writing  for  Harper's  Magazine  the  series 
of  historical  articles  used  by  that  publication 
in  1885,  had  to  obtain  his  books  in  Boston  and 
Cambridge  and  have  them  sent  to  New  York 
for  consultation.  The  collections  at  the  Harvard 
College  library  are  easily  accessible  to  Boston 
literary  workers,  and  the  State  Library,  the 
Athenaeum  and  the  Boston  Public  Library  are 
rich  mines  for  those  who  must  use  many  books. 

The  Boston  Athenaeum  sprang  from  a  maga- 
zine, which,  like  many  another  young  venture 
of  its  kind,  did  not  pay,  and  after  six  months 
was  abandoned  by  its  projector,  Phineas  Adams, 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  389 

a  poor  Harvard  student.  Its  printers,  Monroe 
&  Francis,  determined,  however,  to  carry  it 
on,  and  Rev.  William  Emerson,  the  father  of 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  was  invited  to  become 
its  editor.  Through  him  a  number  of  gentlemen 
and  scholars  of  the  day  became  interested  in  the 
magazine,  and  after  binding  themselves  into  a 
club,  continued  it  under  the  name  Monthly 
Anthology  and  Boston  Review. 

There  were  in  all  nineteen  of  these  men,  and 
they,  it  appears,  are  entitled  to  be  remembered 
as  the  founders  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  For 
they  soon  organized,  from  the  profits  of  the 
magazine,  and  from  private  subscriptions,  the 
nucleus  of  the  library. 

The  "  Reading  Room,"  as  it  was  originally 
called,  was  opened  in  Joy's  Building  on  Congress 
Street,  Jan.  1,  1807.  In  February  of  that  same 
year  the  subscribers  were  incorporated  as  "  pro- 
prietors of  the  Boston  Athenaeum."  John 
Sylvester,  William  Emerson,  William  S.  Shaw, 
William  Tudor,  Jr.,  Peter  O.  Thacher  and 
Edmund  T.  Davis  being  among  the  promoters 
of  the  undertaking. 

The  first  officers  were  appointed  April  7, 
1807,  as  follows:  Hon.  Theophilus  Parsons, 
president,  Hon.  John  Davis,  vice  president, 
John  Lowell,  treasurer,  William  S.  Shaw,  sec- 
retary, Rev.  William  Emerson,  Rev.  John  T. 
Kirkland,  D.  D.,  Peter  Thacher,  R.  H.  Gardiner 


390  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

and  Rev.  J.  S.  Buckminster,  trustees.  To  these 
were  added,  July  16,  Hon.  Harrison  Gray  Otis, 
Samuel  Eliot  and  James  Perkins. 

A  decided  spurt  to  the  new  undertaking 
was  given  by  an  article  in  the  Monthly  An- 
thology  for  May,  1807,  written  by  Rev.  John  T. 
Kirkland,  D.  D.,  president  of  Harvard  College. 
Soon  after  this  150  shares  at  $300  were  sold, 
thus  adding  what  an  old  writer  on  the  subject 
has  termed  "  a  large  number  of  respectable 
names "  to  the  corporation.  Shares  today 
bring  about  $400,  and  are  eagerly  sought  by 
good  Bostonians. 

For  some  time  after  its  inception  the  Athenaeum 
was  the  only  library  of  importance  accessible 
in  any  way  to  the  public.  The  older  "  Boston 
Library,"  a  proprietary  institution,  which  for- 
merly had  its  quarters  in  Franklin  Street  over 
the  arch  [hence  Arch  Street],  —  moving  later  to 
Boylston  Place,  —  was  neither  so  general  nor  so 
extensive  as  the  younger  institution,  and  the 
Public  Library  was  not  established  for  many 
years,  and  then  only  after  a  plan  for  making  the 
Athenaeum  public  had  failed.  But  the  Anthol- 
ogy Club's  institution  was  much  more  than  a 
library.  Like  the  original  Athenaeum  in  Rome, 
its  purpose  was  the  promotion  of  literary  and 
scientific  studies,  and  anything  tending  towards 
these  ends  found  encouragement  there.  Its 
art  exhibitions  used  to  bring  in  a  yearly  income 


/"Ci 


■&%*.,.  J& 

m^^ 


o  5 


OLD    READING    ROOM    OF    THE    BOSTON    ATHENAEUM,    BEACON    STREET. 


EXTERIOR   OF   ATHEN^JUM  TODAY. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  391 

of  from  $1000  to  $2000,  which,  with  various 
special  funds,  was  spent  judiciously  in  acces- 
sions. 

The  Athenaeum  has  had  many  homes.  From 
Congress  Street  it  went  to  Scollay's  Building, 
in  what  is  today  Scollay  Square,  and  in  March, 
1809,  a  house  was  purchased  on  Tremont 
Street,  on  the  site  of  what  was  until  a  few  years 
ago  the  home  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society. 

Here  it  continued,  its  collection  of  books 
gradually  increasing  in  number  until  1822,  when 
it  received  from  James  Perkins  the  noble  gift 
of  his  mansion  house  on  Pearl  Street,  to  be  used 
as  the  library's  home.  At  this  time  it  possessed 
over  17,000  volumes  and  10,000  pamphlets. 

The  rules  provided  for  the  free  accommoda- 
tion in  the  reading  room  of  the  governor  and 
his  council,  the  lieutenant-governor  and  mem- 
bers of  the  Massachusetts  legislature,  judges  of 
the  supreme  courts  and  courts  of  the  United 
States,  officers  and  resident  graduates  of  Har- 
vard, Amherst  and  Williams  College,  and  of  the 
Hanover  theological  school,  the  presidents  of 
the  American  Academy,  the  historical  society, 
the  medical  society,  the  agricultural  society, 
the  Salem  Athenaeum  and  the  East  India 
Marine  Society  of  Salem,  as  well  as  clergymen 
settled  in  Boston.  These  last  dignitaries  were 
further  allowed  to  take  books  home. 


392  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

It  is  interesting  to  learn  that  early  habitues 
of  the  Athenaeum  were  greatly  shocked  by  an 
innovation  which  gave  to  Hannah  Adams,  the 
first  American  woman  to  earn  her  living  with 
her  pen  —  and  a  very  scanty  living  it  was  — 
the  freedom  of  the  library.  This  was  in  Miss 
Adams'  old  age,  after  she  had  become  deaf  as 
well  as  nearly  blind.  But  in  spite  of  her  infirm- 
ities she  retained  her  keen  love  of  books  and 
was  frequently  so  lost  in  the  dusty  tomes  that 
she  forgot  to  eat  and  could  not  be  roused  by  the 
librarian  when  he  departed  at  noon  to  satisfy 
his  healthy  man's  appetite.  He  would  lock 
her  up  with  the  books,  therefore,  only  to  find 
when  he  returned  that  she  was  as  unconscious 
of  him  as  before.  Miss  Adams  herself  seems  to 
have  felt  the  strangeness  of  her  occupation, 
for  she  laments  in  her  memoirs  that  circum- 
stances forced  her  to  "do  business  out  of  the 
female  line  and  so  expose  herself  to  the  ridicule 
of  males."  The  portrait  of  this  first  woman 
worker  has  an  honored  place  on  the  walls  of 
one  of  the  Athenaeum  rooms,  along  with  the 
pictures  of  many  famous  literary  men  who  have 
used  the  library. 

The  corner-stone  of  the  original  building  on 
Beacon  Street  was  laid  in  April,  1847,  and  the 
building  was  completed  and  occupied  in  1849. 
The  corporation  had  the  good  fortune  to  acquire, 
in  1848,  a  large  part  of  George  Washington's 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  393 

library  for  the  small  sum  of  $4000.  These 
books  were  in  a  very  good  state  of  preservation, 
and  are  now,  of  course,  worth  many  times  the 
original  price  paid.  Best  of  all,  the  Washington 
library  beautifully  pieces  out  the  very  valuable 
collection  of  historical  works  for  which,  with 
works  on  biography  and  art,  the  Athenaeum  is 
famous.  Another  priceless  set  of  books  in  the 
Athenaeum  are  those  volumes  given  to  King's 
Chapel  in  1698  by  William  III. 

The  library  is  well  endowed,  having  an  in- 
come-producing fund  which  amounts  to  half  a 
million.  For  many  years  the  American  Academy 
of  Arts  and  Sciences,  the  oldest  literary  institu- 
tion in  Boston  and  the  second  oldest  in  America, 
had  its  headquarters  here,  but  now  these  are 
in  the  rooms  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society. 

There  are  in  all  1049  stockholders,  who,  with 
their  families,  are  privileged  to  use  the  library, 
and  may  themselves  go  to  the  shelves  for  any- 
thing they  wish.  Students  and  authors  from  a 
distance  are  always  welcome,  however,  and  the 
courteous  attendants  succeed  admirably  in 
making  even  casual  investigators  feel  at  home 
in  the  pleasant  old  halls,  where  Tabby  the  Wise, 
the  Athenaeum  cat,  who  seems  to  have  assimi- 
lated the  quiet  air  of  refinement  and  culture 
which  pervades  the  classic  old  library,  sleeps 
comfortably  in  a  sunny  corner,  a  fit  symbol  of 


394  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

the  unstrenuous  life  for  which  this  institution 
stands. 

This  cat  was  not  the  only  frequenter  of  the 
Athenaeum  to  enjoy  cozy  naps  within  its 
sacred  precincts.  A  number  of  venerable  Bos- 
tonians  come  here  every  day  quite  as  much, 
it  would  seem,  for  the  sake  of  the  soporific  as 
the  scholarly  properties  of  the  place. 

Hawthorne  has  penned  one  of  his  most 
characteristic,  although  least  known  tales,  about 
a  good  old  Boston  worthy  whom  he  used  to 
see  nodding  over  his  newspaper  at  the  Athe- 
naeum. The  story  is  called  "  The  Ghost  of 
Dr.  Harris,"  and  was  written  from  Liverpool 
in  1856  for  Mrs.  J.  P.  Heywood,  to  whom  the 
great  romancer  had  once  told  it.  It  tells  in 
Hawthorne's  own  charming  and  inimitable  style 
how  he  saw  the  old  gentleman  Harris  reading 
the  newspaper  in  his  accustomed  place  the 
evening  of  the  day  on  which  the  man  had  passed 
away!  There  is  one  startling  sentence  which 
states  that  the  old  man  was  probably  reading 
the  very  newspaper  in  which  his  own  death 
must  have  been  announced.  The  story  was 
first  printed  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  of 
February,  1900,  and  has  never  been  added  to 
the  works  of  Hawthorne,  though  it  is  in  his  best 
vein. 

Hawthorne's  Concord  neighbor,  Emerson, 
used  to  come  to  the  Athenaeum  a  great  deal, 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  395 

even  as  late  as  1875.  His  daughter,  Miss  Ellen 
Emerson,  usually  accompanied  him,  carrying 
his  papers  and  books  and  her  satchel.  They 
would  sit  by  one  of  the  windows  overlooking 
the  burying  ground  and  make  arrangements 
as  to  how  they  would  spend  their  day  in  the 
city.  One  of  the  older  attendants  has  strikingly 
described  a  conversation  between  Emerson  and 
Longfellow,  carried  on  as  the  two  great  New 
Englanders  stood  together  overlooking  the 
peaceful  cemetery.  The  author  of  "  Hiawatha," 
she  recalls,  was  erect  and  sprightly  and  smiling 
as  usual,  while  the  transcendentalist,  taller  in 
stature,  lounged  back  with  his  shoulders  against 
a  set  of  Memoirs  of  the  French  Revolution 
and  regarded  his  vivacious  companion,  his 
strong-cut  features  beaming  with  pleasure  at 
the  encounter  with  his  long-time  friend  and 
sympathizer. 

Emerson,  this  attendant  recalls,  exemplified 
in  his  choice  of  books  his  own  maxim  not  to 
read  any  publication  until  it  was  a  year  old. 
But  this  was,  perhaps,  necessarily  so,  inasmuch 
as  he  wished  always  to  keep  for  a  long  time 
the  books  he  took  out,  and  recent  publications 
are  not  permitted  to  be  held  for  a  long  period. 
The  record  book  at  the  Athenaeum  in  1867  has 
down  against  the  Concord  scholar  Chester- 
field's letters,  Swedenborg's  Lyra  Apostolica, 
Huxley,  Dry  den  and  Dante.     In  1877,  which 


396  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

was  only  five  years  before  his  death,  Emerson 
took  out  Jean  Paul's  works,  Darwin's  Sights 
and  Insights,  Landor's  Famous  Women,  Rus- 
kin's  Ethics  of  the  Dust,  Balzac's  Illusions, 
Butler's  Year  of  Consolation,  and  Middlemarch, 
as  well  as  Horace. 

William  F.  Poole,  who  originated  Poole's 
Index,  was  at  one  time  [1856-68]  the  librarian 
of  the  Athenaeum,  and  it  was  here  that  the  chief 
part  of  the  work  which  has  since  lightened  the 
labor  of  so  many  writers,  was  done.  Others 
who  have  served  in  this  capacity  are  William 
Smith  Shaw,  one  of  the  founders  (1813-1822); 
Seth  Bass  (1825-1846);  Charles  Folsom,  an 
ex-librarian  of  Harvard  (1847-1856);  Charles 
Ammi  Cutter,  originator  of  Cutter's  system  of 
classification  (1869-1892);  William  Coolidge 
Lane,  now  librarian  at  Harvard  (1893-1897); 
and  Charles  Knowles  Bolton,  the  present 
librarian,  appointed  in  1898. 

Frequent  alarums  having  been  sounded  about 
the  folly  of  continuing  to  house  the  Athenaeum 
treasures  in  a  building  known  not  to  be  fire- 
proof it  was  decided,  some  ten  years  ago,  so  to 
modernize  the  old  structure  as  to  make  it  a  safe 
repository  for  its  collections  if  this  could  be 
done  without  sacrificing  the  Georgian  fagade 
or  the  grace  and  charm  of  the  building's  interior. 
As  if  by  magic  the  feat  was  accomplished  by  the 
architects  entrusted  with  the  task;    and  today 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  397 

the  Athenaeum  of  Boston's  Golden  Age  lives 
on  at  the  same  old  stand,  with  two  additional 
stories  ! 

For  a  bookish  city  Boston  was  astonishingly- 
slow  in  providing  library  accommodation  for 
those  who  needed  it  most,  i.  e.  for  those  who 
could  have  no  share  in  the  rich  privileges  of  the 
Athenaeum.  And  the  idea  of  a  public  library 
emanated,  not  from  a  Bostonian  at  all,  but 
from  a  Frenchman,  Alexandre  Vattemare,  who 
was  born  in  Paris  near  the  close  of  the  eight- 
eenth century.  Though  bred  a  surgeon  Vatte- 
mare in  middle  life  became  an  impersonator. 
In  the  course  of  his  professional  tourings,  the 
awful  waste  of  books,  imperfectly  catalogued 
and  glued  to  their  shelves,  impressed  itself 
upon  him  and  he  determined  to  devote  time, 
energy  and  property  to  "  give  the  intellectual 
treasures  of  the  cultivated  world  the  same 
dissemination  and  equalization  which  commerce 
had  already  given  to  its  material  ones."  His 
aim  was  nothing  less  than  to  establish  in  every 
quarter  of  the  world  "  free  public  libraries  and 
museums  ever  open  to  the  use  of  the  people." 
When  he  came  to  America,  in  1839,  he  found 
that  he  must  not  only  bring  books  but  create 
free  libraries  to  put  them  in,  but,  nothing 
daunted,  he  began  a  vigorous  agitation  of  the 
whole  matter. 

At  a  meeting  held  in  the  Masonic  Temple 


398  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

on  the  evening  of  May  5,  1841,  M.  Vattemare 
first  presented  his  idea.  After  hearing  what 
"the  renowned  Frenchman  "  —  he  was  so  styled 
by  Mayor  Chapman  in  his  introductory  ad- 
dress —  had  to  say,  a  committee  consisting 
of  Dr.  Walter  Channing,  Rev.  Ezra  S.  Gannett, 
Rev.  G.  W.  Blagden  and  Charles  Francis 
Adams  was  appointed  to  submit  plans  and 
estimates  for  a  building.  Yet  since  we  were 
then  having  one  of  our  periodic  "  bad  times  " 
it  was  six  years  more  before  anything  further 
was  done.  Then,  in  1847,  Mayor  Quincy 
(Josiah  Quincy  Jr.)  interested  himself  in  the 
project  and  offered  five  thousand  dollars  towards 
a  public  library  on  condition  that  ten  thousand 
dollars  additional  for  the  same  purpose  should 
be  raised.  M.  Vattemare  had  meanwhile  for- 
warded fifty  valuable  volumes  which  were 
being  stored  in  the  City  Hall,  and  these  were 
soon  joined  by  gifts  of  books  from  Edward 
Everett,  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  S.  A.  Eliot  and 
others,  all  of  which  were  placed  in  the  City  Hall 
under  the  care  of  Edward  Capen. 

In  August,  1850,  Mayor  Bigelow  contributed 
$1000  towards  the  library  fund,  and  Edward 
Everett,  persistently  advising  the  erection  of 
a  building,  Joshua  Bates,  a  native  of  Boston,  — 
who  afterwards  became  a  prominent  member 
of  the  firm  of  Baring  Brothers,  —  donated  to 
the  city  of  his  birth  (in  1852)  the  handsome  sum 


JOHN    BOYLE    O  REILLY. 

From  a  photograph  by  ChicTcering ,  in  the  possession  of  Miss  Mary 
Boyle  O'Reilly. 

Page  403. 


ARCHBISHOP    WILLIAMS. 

From  the  painting  by  Frederic  Vinton. 
Page  403. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  399 

of  $50,000  for  a  Public  Library.  Now  at  last 
the  matter  was  put  into  definite  shape.  Steps 
were  taken  to  purchase  the  Wheeler  estate 
on  Boylston  Street;  in  the  meantime,  the  lower 
floor  of  the  Adams  schoolhouse  on  Mason  Street 
was  fitted  up  for  library  purposes  and  a  board 
of  trustees  and  a  librarian  were  elected.  The 
Mason  Street  reading  room  was  opened  to  the 
public  March  20,  1854,  and  in  May  of  the  same 
year  the  circulation  of  books  for  home  use  began. 

The  thing  in  which  Vattemare  had  been 
principally  interested  was  a  system  of  inter- 
national exchanges  of  volumes  concerning  the 
growth,  development  and  history  of  each  country. 
He  saw  that  Boston  received  nearly  one  hundred 
such  works  from  France  and  Boston  duly  gave 
back  a  long  list  of  books  to  the  citizens  of  Paris. 
Meanwhile  there  continued  to  arrive  from 
Mr.  Bates  a  rich  accumulation  of  the  higher 
class  of  books.  To  organize  this  most  important 
part  of  the  library  and  give  chief  control  over 
the  whole  to  a  skilled  hand  a  city  ordinance  was 
passed  (March,  1853)  creating  the  office  of 
superintendent  of  the  Boston  Public  Library. 
The  first  incumbent  was  Charles  Coffin  Jewett. 
Upon  his  death,  January  9,  1868,  Justin  Winsor 
was  appointed. 

The  reading-room  and  lower  hall  library  of 
the  building  on  Boylston  Street  were  opened  in 
1858,  and   there,  for   nearly   thirty   years,   all 


400  ROMANTIC    DAYS 

Boston  was  made  welcome  to  a  collection  of 
books  which  constantly  increased  in  variety 
and  value.  To  facilitate  the  use  of  these  Arthur 
Mason  Knapp,  that  "  giant  among  reference 
librarians  "  for  twenty-four  years  gave  heart, 
soul  and  mind  in  devoted  service  to  the  public. 

The  old  Corner  Bookstore,  and  some  of  the 
literary  clubs  and  famous  literary  households  of 
the  city,  must  be  mentioned  before-  we  leave 
this  subject  of  Boston  as  a  literary  centre. 
James  T.  Fields  was  the  genius  loci  at  the  corner 
of  School  and  Washington  Streets,  and  hardly  a 
man  whose  name  now  forms  a  part  of  New 
England's  contribution  to  literature  but  loafed 
around  the  first  "Old  Corner  Book  Store," 
so  far  as  he  loafed  at  all.  George  William 
Curtis  has  said  of  this  institution  : 

"It  was  a  very  remarkable  group  of  men  — 
indeed,  it  was  the  first  group  of  really  great 
American  authors  —  which  familiarly  fre- 
quented the  corner  as  the  friend  of  Fields. 
There  had  been  Bryant  and  Irving  and  Cooper 
and  Halleck  and  Paulding  and  Willis  of  New 
York,  but  there  had  been  nothing  like  the  New 
England  circle  which  compelled  the  world  to 
acknowledge  that  there  was  an  American  litera- 
ture." 

Fields'  home  at  148  Charles  Street  was 
similarly  a  rallying-place  for  authors  and 
was    noted    for    its    delightful    hospitality    to 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  401 

visiting  celebrities.  Crowded  from  entrance  to 
attic  with  artistic  objects  and  literary  trophies, 
it  long  remained  a  delight  to  all  so  fortunate  as 
to  know  it.  For,  beside  its  rare  books  and 
the  intimate  pictures,  there  were  mementos  of 
the  many  famous  men  and  women  who  had 
been  visitors  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period.  In 
one  little  bedroom,  provided  with  old  furniture, 
antique  engravings  and  bric-a-brac,  there  lodged 
at  different  times,  as  guests,  Dickens,  Thack- 
eray, Hawthorne,  Trollope,  Matthew  Arnold, 
Kingsley,  Miss  Cushman,  and  Bayard  Taylor. 
The  late  Sarah  Orne  Jewett  made  her  home 
with  Mrs.  Fields  while  in  Boston. 

Of  Thackeray,  who  stayed  here  in  1850, 
Fields  tells  a  delicious  story  in  his  Yesterdays 
with  Authors,  He  gave  him  a  dinner  at  the 
Tremont  House  and  American  oysters  had  been 
provided.  Thackeray  had  as  yet  made  the 
acquaintance  only  of  the  small  British  species. 
A  half  dozen  of  the  American  variety  were  set 
before  the  Englishman,  who  looked  at  them 
in  some  amazement,  and  then  gingerly  picked 
up  the  smallest  one. 

'  Try  the  big  one,"  urged  Fields. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  too  much  like 
the  high  priest's  servant's  ear  that  Peter  cut 
off." 

After  some  advice  as  to  the  proper  mode 
of    procedure,    Thackeray    achieved    his    first 


402  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

American  oyster,  and  he  then  remarked,  "  Pro- 
foundly grateful.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  swallowed  a 
little  baby." 

Another  literary  home  which  was  long  a 
centre  of  intellectual  stimulus  was  that  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  at  11  Pinckney 
Street.  For  thirty  years  they  held  "Sunday 
evenings"  of  rare  hospitality  and  charm,  to 
which  came,  among  others,  the  brilliant  Rufus 
Choate,  one  of  the  greatest  forensic  advocates 
America  has  ever  produced. 

For  many  years  the  hospitable  home  of 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton  at  28  Rutland  Square 
was  another  happy  hunting-ground  for  authors 
and  visiting  celebrities.  Her  "  Fridays  "  are 
now  perpetuated,  in  some  measure,  by  the 
weekly  teas  held  in  Trinity  Court,  during  the 
winter  months,  by  the  Boston  Authors'  Club, 
of  which  Mrs.  Moulton  was  long  a  valued  and 
devoted  member. 

Chief  in  prestige  of  the  literary  clubs  of  the 
nineteenth  century  was  the  Saturday  Club, 
inaugurated  about  the  time  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  was  founded.  It  met  on  Saturday 
once  a  month  at  two  o'clock  in  the  mirror-room 
at  Parker's  and  among  its  members  were 
Emerson,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow,  Motley, 
Whipple,  Whittier,  Professor  Benjamin  Pierce, 
Sumner,  R.  H.  Dana,  Dr.  Holmes,  Governor 
Andrew,  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Henry  James 


IN   OLD   BOSTON  403 

(the  elder),  Judge  Hoar,  Chief  Justice  Gray, 
Prescott,  and  later,  President  Eliot,  Howells, 
Aldrich  and  Phillips  Brooks.  Agassiz,  who  was 
a  great  favorite  in  the  club,  always  insisted 
on  having  a  huge  joint  of  roast  mutton  served 
entire,  from  which  he  cut  his  own  slice,  re- 
quiring the  meat  to  be  cooked  more  and  more 
rare  as  he  got  on  in  years. 

Of  the  Papyrus  Club,  made  up  of  journalists, 
authors  and  painters,  John  Boyle  O'Reilly 
was  long  a  favorite  member  and  for  many  years 
president.  It  was  to  O'Reilly,  who  had  a 
peculiar  love  for  things  Egyptian,  that  the 
club,  organized  in  1872,  owes  its  name.  At  the 
time  of  his  death  in  1890,  O'Reilly  and  Arch- 
bishop John  J.  Williams  were  joint  owners  of 
the  Pilot,  a  Roman  Catholic  paper  of  wide 
influence  and  marked  readability.  To  O'Reilly, 
who  has  been  called  "  the  most  romantic  figure 
in  literary  Boston,"  a  noble  bust  now  stands 
on  the  Back  Bay  Fens.  It  is  not  without 
significance,  I  think,  that  Boston  is  the  only  city 
in  the  country  which  has  thus  honored  a  purely 
literarv  man. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  AND   OUT   OF   SOME   OLD   BOSTON 
PLAYHOUSES 

ONE  reason  why  theatre-going  has  long 
been  regarded  as  a  highly  commendable 
form  of  diversion  in  Boston  is  because 
several  gentlemen  of  exceptional  character  have 
at  different  times  been  managers  of  theatres 
here.  James  A.  Dickson,  for  instance,  who  in 
1806  became  joint  lessee  with  Snelling  Powell 
and  John  Bernard  of  Boston's  first  regular  play- 
house, the  old  Federal  Street  Theatre,  cherished 
sentiments  of  such  respect  for  the  religious  rites 
of  society  that,  often  at  a  loss  to  himself,  he 
closed  his  theatre  on  days  of  public  fast  and 
Church  days,  deeming  this  a  duty  he  owed  to 
the  cause  of  society  and  good  morals.  James  A. 
Dickson  also  conceived  it  to  be  his  duty  to  share 
with  society  what  he  took  from  society.  When 
Savannah,  Georgia,  and  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, were  successively  visited  by  a  devastating 
fire,  a  substantial  check  from  Mr.  Dickson 
promptly  found  its  way  to  the  sufferers. 

With  such  a  man  controlling  for  many  years 
the  fortunes  of  our  drama  —  for  from  1798 
to    1827   his   theatre   had   a  monopoly  of  the 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  405 

"  legitimate "  here  in  spite  of  the  rivalry,  for  a 
brief  period,  of  the  Haymarket,  which  stood 
about  where  the  Tremont  Theatre  is  now  —  it 
was  inevitable  that  the  theatre  should  be  an 
honored  institution  in  the  Boston  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  Each  summer  Mr.  Dickson 
went  to  London  to  recruit  his  company  (during 
his  life  he  crossed  the  ocean  upwards  of  forty 
times),  and  he  was  instrumental  in  bringing  to 
this  country  many  of  the  popular  favorites  of  the 
day,  including  George  Frederick  Cooke.1 

In  winter  Mr.  Dickson's  theatre  opened  at 
five  o'clock,  and  the  performance  began  at 
six;  in  the  spring  months  half  an  hour  later 
was  the  time  for  the  curtain  to  rise.  The 
"guests"  on  entering  were  met  by  a  bewigged 
and  bepowdered  master  of  ceremonies  and  es- 
corted to  their  boxes.  What  matter  that  they 
could  see  the  performance  but  dimly  from  these 
boxes,  in  the  feeble  light  of  candles  or  the  more 
objectionable  smoky  illumination  of  whale  oil 
lamps,  and  that  in  winter  they  might  freeze 
for  all  the  effective  heating  apparatus  provided  ? 
Perhaps  it  was  to  keep  warm  that  the  gallery 
gods  threw  things,  so  obliging  the  orchestra  to 

1  An  amusing  story  is  told  about  Cooke  in  connection  with  his 
visit  to  Boston  in  1811.  He  insisted  upon  going  to  Trinity  Church, 
on  Summer  Street  near  the  theatre,  to  hear  Doctor  Gardiner  preach 
on  the  ground  that  as  Gardiner  "was  the  only  one  of  them  (meaning 
the  clergy)  who  has  done  me  the  honor  to  come  and  see  me  play,  I'll 
do  him  the  honor  of  going  to  hear  him  preach."  He  went  —  and 
slept  off  a  debauch  during  the  sermon. 


406  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

insert  in  the  newspaper  a  card  requesting  the 
audience  to  be  more  restrained  in  the  matter 
of  pelting  the  musicians  with  apple  cores  and 
oranges.  Cooper  often  acted  here ;  John  How- 
ard Payne  made  his  debut  as  a  youthful  prodigy 
at  this  house ;  Joseph  G.  Holman  here  played 
Hamlet,  and  Forrest,  William  Augustus  Conway, 
Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Charles  Mathews,  Sr.,  and 
Edmund  Kean  were  other  distinguished  players 
who  appeared  on  the  stage  of  the  Old  Federal. 
John  Bernard,  who  afterwards  became  a  mana- 
ger in  Boston,  was  one  of  the  interesting  lesser 
theatrical  lights  associated  in  his  acting  days 
with  this  Federal  Street  Theatre  ;  the  Poes  were 
here  playing  an  engagement  when  their  son, 
Edgar  Allan  Poe,  was  born  (on  January  18, 1809), 
and  here  Henry  J.  Finn,  one  of  the  most  popular 
actors  that  ever  made  Boston  his  home,  long 
occupied  a  position  very  similar  to  that  held 
later  at  the  old  Boston  Museum  by  William  War- 
ren. Finn  was  a  man  of  great  natural  wit 
though  an  incurable  punster.  When  he  met 
his  death  on  a  Sound  steamer,  January  13,  1840, 
theatre-goers  all  over  the  country  mourned  his 
loss.  He  was  most  renowned  for  his  Dr.  Pan- 
gloss  and  his  Paul  Pry,  but  he  is  said  to  have 
acted  Othello  very  movingly  (in  1822)  at  the 
Federal  Street  Theatre  to  the  Iago  of  Cooper, 
George  Barrett  on  this  occasion  appearing  as 
Cassio  and  Mrs.  Henry  as  Desdemona. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  407 

To  this  house  came  also  Incledon,  the  singer 
who  vied  with  the  tragedian,  Pope,  in  his  devo- 
tion to  the  pleasures  of  the  table.  When  Incle- 
don, after  his  return  from  America,  met  Pope,  he 
replied  to  the  question,  "Well,  Charles,  and  how 
do  they  feed?"  with  the  answer,  "Immortally, 
my  dear  Pope,  the  very  poetry  of  eating  and 
drinking  in  all  things  but  one,  —  they  put  no  oil 
to  their  salads." 

"No  oil  to  their  salads!"  echoed  his  friend. 
"Why  did  we  make  peace  with  them  ?"  Which 
reminds  me  of  a  story  told  of  Cooper,  who  also 
had  an  Englishman's  reverence  for  good  food. 
Cooper  was  so  offended  on  one  occasion  by  the 
barbarity  of  a  guest  of  his  who  insisted  on  bury- 
ing his  mutton  chops  in  mustard  that  he  threw 
down  his  napkin,  called  the  waiter  to  bring  his 
bill  and,  with  a  low  bow,  left  his  friend  to  the 
pursuit  of  this  strange  gastronomic  fancy. 

The  theatre  on  Federal  Street  was  the  scene 
of  the  Kean  riots,  those  extraordinary  demonstra- 
tions inspired  by  perfervid  patriotism  which 
some  of  us  have  for  the  first  time  been 
able  to  understand  since  living  through  similar 
occurrences  connected  with  our  late  war  with 
Germany.  "Old  Drury,"  as  it  came  to  be 
called,  had  a  wonderful  history  during  this 
period,  when  it  enjoyed  a  monopoly  of  theatrical 
business  in  Boston.  It  seems  not  to  have  needed 
competition  to  maintain  its  high  standard,  but 


408  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

it  got  it  just  the  same.  For  soon  the  first 
Tremont,  under  the  management  of  a  capable 
but  erratic  actor,  William  Pelby  by  name,  was 
bidding  against  it  for  public  favor. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  opposition  to  the 
inception  of  this  new  house  on  the  part  of  the 
ultra-pious  folk  of  Boston,  but  it  finally  got  under 
way  and  soon  proved  so  potent  a  rival  to  the 
Federal  Street  Theatre  —  especially  during  the 
latter  months  of  1828,  when  the  elder  Booth 
was  its  manager  —  that  the  old  house  was,  in 
1830,  forced  to  capitulate.  In  the  autumn  of 
1831  Miss  Clara  Fisher  had  a  very  successful 
engagement  here.  Concerning  her  acting  of 
Rosalind  in  "As  You  Like  It"  the  following  en- 
thusiastic account  may  be  found  (under  date  of 
October  24,  1831)  in  the  "Diary"  of  Christopher 
Columbus  Baldwin,  a  Worcester  librarian  with 
a  taste  for  city  pleasures  : 

"She  is  delightful !  She  looks  well,  acts  well, 
and  is,  in  truth,  a  most  interesting  lady.  I  have 
never  seen  any  female,  off  or  on  the  stage,  whose 
appearance  gave  me  so  much  pleasure.  Gall  and 
Spurzheim  would  swear  her  head  was  cast  under 
the  direction  of  a  committee  of  taste  chosen  at 
the  court  of  beauty.  She  is  not,  after  all,  so 
handsome  ;  but  she  looks  well,  and  has  decidedly 
the  best-shaped  head  that  I  have  ever  seen  upon 
the  shoulders  of  a  female.  She  is  rather  short, 
tho'  not  too  much  so,  and  is  just  fat  enough  to 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  409 

look  delicious.     She  looks  as  tho'  she  might  be 
about  20,  yet  is  about  26  or  7." 

In  the  heyday  of  the  Tremont's  success,  the 
National  Theatre,  familiarly  known  as  the  "old 
Nash,"  was  brought  into  being,  more,  it  would 
appear,  to  satisfy  Mr.  William  Pelby's  uncon- 
querable passion  for  building  new  playhouses 
than  to  meet  any  crying  need,  on  Boston's  part, 
for  another  theatre.  Yet,  once  up,  the  house 
found  its  audience,  and  there  ensued  many  years 
of  important  and  colorful  dramatic  history  down 
near  what  is  now  Hay  market  Square.  John  W. 
Ryan  of  Dorchester,  long  critic  for  the  Saturday 
Evening  Gazette,  has  told  me  of  being  taken 
to  see  "George  Barnwell"  here  in  the  middle 
forties.  "We  had  seats,"  he  said,  "in  the 
boxes,  which  were  in  the  genteel  portion  of 
the  house.  The  pit  was  beneath  us,  with  its 
bare,  backless,  wooden  benches,  where  the  de- 
mocracy sat  and  ate  peanuts  and  oranges  as 
the  play  progressed  and  uttered  their  criticisms 
in  no  uncertain  tones."  Very  likely  the  Boston 
truckmen,  a  power  in  those  far-off  days,  formed 
a  large  part  of  the  audience  on  this  occasion, 
as  they  appear  to  have  done  on  the  night  of  the 
full  grown  riot  which  the  National  soon  witnessed 
because  to  Miss  Louisa  Gann  (afterwards 
Mrs.  Wulf  Fries)  had  been  given  a  r61e  the  men 
thought  belonged  to  Mrs.  Charles  Thorne. 
The  truckmen  accordingly  spent  a  very  happy 


410  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

evening  tearing  up  the  seats  of  the  theatre  and 
throwing  them,  together  with  other  articles 
less  weighty  but  more  insidious,  at  the  heads 
of  everybody  who  ventured  upon  the  stage." 

"London  Assurance"  received  its  first  pres- 
entation in  Boston  at  this  theatre,  and  here, 
also,  George  Jones  (afterwards  known  as  the 
Count  Johannes)  gave  the  first  impersonation 
of  Claude  Melnotte  this  city  ever  enjoyed. 
At  the  time  the  house  was  destroyed  by  fire 
an  engagement  was  being  played  by  Forrest's 
divorced  wife,  Catherine  Sinclair.  Mrs.  Vin- 
cent, then  a  bouncing  young  woman,  was  a 
member  of  the  company  at  the  time. 

In  those  far-away  days,  no  less  than  later, 
Mrs.  Vincent  was  the  warm  friend  of  all  who 
needed  friendliness.  Among  those  to  whom 
she  extended  a  helping  hand  at  this  stage  of  her 
career  was  Edward  Askew  Sothern,  who  had  not 
yet  found  himself.  Manager  Leonard,  who  had 
brought  Sothern  out  from  England,  lost  a  good 
deal  of  money  at  the  National  and  finally  lost 
the  theatre  itself,  which  after  numerous  ups 
and  downs  fell  into  the  hands  of  William  B. 
English,  an  old  newspaper  man,  who  had  mar- 
ried Mrs.  Western,  mother  of  Lucille  and  Helen 
Western.  Mrs.  English  herself  in  due  time  be- 
came the  manager  of  a  theatre  in  the  Studio 
Building,  which  until  quite  recently  stood  on 
the  corner  of  Bromfield  and  Tremont  streets, 


LOBBY  OF  THE  OLD  GLOBE  THEATRE. 

Page  419. 


FOYER    OF   THE    BOSTON   THEATRE. 

Page  413. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  411 

and  which  was  at  first  known  as  Jane  English's 
Theatre  and  later  as  the  New  Tremont.  At 
matinees  held  here  during  the  Civil  War  whole 
rows  of  women  were  to  be  seen  plying  knitting 
needles  "for  the  soldiers"  just  as  during  the 
Great  War  they  knitted  for  the  boys  "over 
there."  In  1866  this  theatre  was  converted  to 
business  uses. 

That  same  year  the  Continental  Theatre 
opened  (at  the  south  corner  of  Washington  and 
Harvard  streets)  in  which  house  on  April  13, 
1868,  Madame  Fanny  Janauschek,  supported 
by  a  German  dramatic  company,  made  her 
first  appearance  in  Boston.  This  house  was 
later  called  the  Olympic  and,  later  still,  the  St. 
James.  Its  last  season  was  in  1872.  On  the 
site  of  what  is  now  the  Bijou  Theatre  stood  for- 
merly a  house  which,  when  it  opened  January 
11,  1836,  was  known  as  the  Lion  Theatre; 
then  it  was  called  the  Melodeon ;  and,  on  Octo- 
ber 15,  1878,  Jason  Wentworth  reopened  it  once 
more  under  the  name  of  the  Gaiety  Theatre. 
It  was  here  that  Macready  and  Charlotte  Cush- 
men  acted  together  in  1844. 

One  of  the  early  managers  at  the  Howard 
Athenaeum1  (which  dates  back  to  1845)  was 
James  H.  Hackett,  father  of  the  present-day 
star.  The  elder  Hackett  is  generally  acknowl- 
edged to  have  been  the  best  FalstaflF  America 

1  See  pp.  246  et  seq. 


412  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

has  ever  seen.  He  had  a  very  large  experience 
with  theatres  on  the  business  side,  too,  for  not 
only  did  he  conduct  the  fortunes  of  the  Howard 
Athenaeum  in  its  early  days,  but  he  managed, 
also,  the  Chatham  Garden  Theatre,  New  York, 
in  1829,  the  Bowery  in  1830,  the  National 
(Italian  Opera  House)  in  1837  and  the  Astor 
Place  Opera  House.  In  addition  to  which  he 
introduced  a  company  of  Italian  singers  at 
Castle  Garden  in  1854  and  played  at  intervals 
in  London.  In  many  ways,  indeed,  this  elder 
James  Hackett  was  one  of  the  most  interesting 
characters  the  American  stage  has  ever  known. 
At  the  Howard  Hackett' s  first  great  success, 
from  a  money  standpoint,  was  attained,  in 
1847,  by  means  of  the  Viennoise  Children,  a 
troupe  of  juvenile  dancers  brought  over  from 
Vienna  by  Madam  Weiss  and  by  her  returned 
safely  to  their  parents  after  they  had  made  a 
great  deal  of  money  in  the  various  cities  of  this 
country.  A  whole  book,  and  a  very  interesting 
one,  might  be  written  about  the  attractions 
at  the  Howard  Athenaeum  before  it  ceased, 
in  1868,  to  be  the  home  of  "the  legitimate," 
for  it  was  here  that  genuine  Italian  opera  was 
presented  for  the  first  time  in  Boston;  here 
that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean  appeared  — 
raising  the  prices  from  fifty  cents  to  one  dollar ; 
here  that  Mrs.  Anna  Cora  Mowatt,  the  first 
American  "society"  woman  to  make  a  success 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  413 

not  only  as  an  actress  but  as  a  "contemporary" 
American  dramatist,  used  to  play;  and  here 
that  "The  Octoroon"  received  its  first  Boston 
presentation  with  E.  L.  Davenport  as  the  In- 
dian. Davenport  was  a  manager  at  the  How- 
ard, and  it  was  in  his  time  that  Fanny  Daven- 
port, as  a  little  girl,  made  her  "debut"  here, 
singing  the  "Star  Spangled  Banner."1  Lester 
Wallack,  the  elder,  and  John  Stetson  were 
other  Howard  managers  in  "the  good  old  days." 

The  Howard  still  stands  and  still  does  busi- 
ness though  its  field  is  no  longer  "the  legitimate." 
It  shares  a  history  which  reaches  back  to  mid- 
Victorian  days  only  with  the  Boston  Theatre, 
made  possible  to  an  expanding  and  prosperous 
city  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century  by  the 
interest  and  initiative  of  leading  Boston  busi- 
ness men,  among  them  Gardner  Brewer,  Oliver 
Ditson  and  Davis  Sears.  The  stock  in  the  new 
corporation  was  liberally  subscribed  to  by  gen- 
erous playgoers  of  the  day,  and  the  beauty  and 
even  magnificence  of  the  building  became  a 
matter  of  much  civic  pride. 

The  opening  night  was  a  gala  occasion  in- 
deed. It  fell  on  Tuesday,  September  11,  1854, 
and  the  entertainment  offered  was  lengthy  and 
varied.  The  programme,  printed  on  a  single 
long  and  narrow  page,  has  now  become  a  rarity 
much  sought  by  collectors.     Preceding  the  play 

1  See  The  Romance  oj  the  American  Theatre,  p.  338. 


414  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

announcement  are  the  names  of  manager  and 
assistant,  musical  director,  machinist,  etc.,  while 
the  humble  but  important  treasurer  brings  up 
the  rear.  Attention  is  particularly  called  to 
the  statement  that  a  corps  of  ushers  "will  con- 
duct Ladies  and  Gentlemen  to  their  seats." 

Theatrical  first-nights  were  like  eight-course 
dinners  in  those  days,  particularly  when  a 
new  and  beautiful  theatre  was  to  be  dedi- 
cated. The  bill  for  this  occasion  included 
not  only  a  play  and  a  musical  farce  but 
also  a  concert  and  the  reading  of  a  prize  poem ! 
Surely  a  generous  evening's  entertainment ! 
No  wonder  the  performance  had  to  begin  at 
seven-thirty.  At  the  foot  of  the  programme 
the  management  devoted  space  to  a  little  gos- 
sip. "  Mrs.  Hudson  Kirby  has  recovered  from 
her  severe  accident  and  leaves  Liverpool  on  the 
third.  Mr.  James  Bennett,  tragedian,  will 
shortly  appear,  and  Miss  Adelaide  Biddle  is 
daily  expected." 

The  selection  of  the  prize  address  had  been 
left  to  a  committee  which  included  Oliver  Wen- 
dell Holmes,  James  T.  Fields  and  Epes  Sar- 
gent, but  the  author  of  the  poem  selected  was 
not  announced  until  its  delivery,  when  an  en- 
velope containing  the  name  of  the  lucky  contest- 
ant for  fame  was  opened.  The  poem  was  long 
and  of  conventional  stamp,  concluding  with 
these  historically  inaccurate  lines : 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  415 

"  But  write  these  words  on  Memory's  grateful  page, 
Sons  of  the  Pilgrims  I1     You  redeemed  our  stage." 

In  the  stock  company  that  night,  and  for  some 
time  after,  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Wood,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Gilbert.  Gilbert  stayed 
with  the  company  for  three  seasons,  and  after 
occupying  for  many  years  a  front  place  in  the 
ranks  of  actors,  returned  to  Boston  for  his  final 
rest,  being  buried  at  Forest  Hills. 

The  first  manager  here  was  Thomas  Barry, 
who  was  also  the  proprietor.  Among  his  suc- 
cessors were  Wyzeman  Marshall  and  Edwin 
Booth,  each  for  one  year ;  H.  J.  Jarrett ;  Edwin 
Booth's  brother,  J.  B.  Booth  (a  capable  actor, 
though  overshadowed  by  the  more  brilliant 
members  of  his  family) ;  Thayer  and  Tompkins 
in  a  partnership  that  lasted  a  number  of  years ; 
and  Eugene  Tompkins. 

Throughout  its  existence  the  stock  company 
here  was  an  admirable  one,  and  contained,  at 
one  time  or  another,  many  actors  of  more  than 
the  average  ability ;  as,  for  instance,  J.  W.  Wal- 
lack,  E.  L.  Davenport,  George  Vandenhoff, 
Mrs.  Thomas  Barry^  and  Kate  Reignolds,  better 
known  as  Mrs.  Erving  Winslow.  Sometimes 
stock  companies  from  other  cities  visited  here, 
as  when,  in  1862,  Jarrett  brought  from  New 
York  the  Winter   Garden   Company,    contain- 

1  Already  well-intentioned  writers  were  beginning  to  confuse  the 
Pilgrims,  who  settled  in  Plymouth,  with  the  Puritans,  Boston's 
first  settlers. 


416  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

ing  Wheatley,  the  Elder  Wallack,  Davenport, 
Mrs.  Wallack  and  Mrs.  Vincent;  and  in  1864, 
when  William  Warren  came  at  the  head  of  the 
William  Warren  Comedy  Company. 

From  the  first  season  until  1905-1906,  the 
Boston  Theatre  was  the  stronghold  of  opera,  so 
far  as  the  Hub  was  concerned.  Its  printed  pro- 
gramme promised  the  first  night  had,  among 
other  treats,  "Eminent  artists  in  Italian  and 
English  opera,"  and  the  promise  was  loyally 
kept,  with  German  and  French  opera  added. 
An  important  event,  now  generally  forgotten, 
was  the  first  season  of  grand  opera  sung  in 
English,  which  occurred  at  the  Boston  Theatre 
in  1886,  antedating  by  a  number  of  years 
Mr.  Savage's  far-famed  "  innovation." 

It  would  be  hopeless  to  attempt  even  to  name 
here  the  famous  actors  and  actresses  who  have 
played  at  this  theatre  since  its  opening.  Stars 
of  every  degree  of  magnitude,  from  Rachel, 
Booth  and  Bernhardt,  whose  light  is  for  all  time, 
to  the  little  stars  who  twinkle  for  the  brief  span 
of  a  season  or  two  and  then  go  out,  —  all  have 
had  their  turn  upon  these  boards.  The  first 
"star"  was  Julia  Dean,  a  very  famous  Juliet, 
now  probably  forgotten  save  by  students  of 
the  drama.  Yet  in  her  day  Julia  Dean  was  so 
much  the  idol  of  "gilded  youth"  that  all  Har- 
vard was  on  hand  when  she  played  at  "the 
Boston!"     The  second  year  in  the  history  of 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  417 

the  Boston  Theatre  was  a  particularly  memo- 
rable one,  —  Davenport,  Mario,  J.  H.  Hackett, 
Rachel,  Adelaide  Phillips  and  Edwin  Forrest 
then  playing  here. 

Here  came  also,  Charles  Mathews,  inimitable 
in  "Used  Up"  and  "Cool  as  a  Cucumber;" 
Charlotte  Cushman  in  all  her  roles  (an  especial 
event  was  her  performance  of  Macbeth  with 
Joseph  Proctor  in  a  benefit  in  1863) ;  McCul- 
lough,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  Lucille 
Western,  Ristori,  Barrett,  Janauschek,  Clara 
Morris,  Lotta,  Jefferson,  (first  at  this  theatre 
in  1869) ;  Fechter,  Neilson,  Salvini,  E.  A.  Soth- 
ern  (a  wonderfully  brilliant  and  versatile  actor, 
though  the  world  knows  him  only  as  Dun- 
dreary) ;  Mary  Anderson,  Irving  and  Terry,  — 
they  come  to  mind  faster  than  the  pen  can  write 
them  down.  And  to  name  these  few  is  only  to 
pick  and  choose  from  the  many. 

A  noble  company  of  players,  surely,  these 
walls  have  gazed  upon,  kings  and  queens  of  the 
mimic  world,  whose  names  are  names  to  conjure 
with.  About  this  theatre  a  book 1  has  been  com- 
piled, a  very  thick  and  handsomely  illustrated 
volume  which  gives  an  accurate  account  of  all 
the  engagements  ever  played  at  this  house  up 
to  the  year  of  the  book's  publication.  Unfortu- 
nately, it  gives  little  or  nothing  else.  It  does 
not  tell,  for  instance,  such  a  highly  interesting 

1  History  of  the  Boston  Theatre. 


418  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

fact  as  that  this  house  was  the  first  in  Boston  — 
except,  of  course,  the  righteous  Museum  —  to 
provide  no  accommodation  for  the  ladies  of  the 
"half -world!"  It  is  one  of  the  anomalies  of 
Boston's  social  history  that,  in  an  era  so  prudish 
as  the  nineteenth  century,  this  particular  evil 
was  not  only  tolerated,  but  helped  to  flourish 
in  our  theatres.  Heretofore  it  had  quite  been 
expected  that  demi-mondaines  should  make 
themselves  at  home  in  the  "third  tier",  where 
there  was  wont  to  be  a  bar  ! 

About  two  blocks  further  up  Washington 
street  —  and  on  the  other  side  —  Selwyn's 
Theatre  came  into  existence  in  1867,  and  here  it 
was  that  Fechter,  —  brilliant,  passionate,  ill- 
starred,  —  was  briefly  manager,  beginning  Sep- 
tember 12,  1870.  Associated  with  this  dispenser 
of  "magnetic  glamour"  was  Carlotta  Leclercq, 
who,  on  February  21,  1872,  gave  here  that  im- 
personation of  Peg  Woffington  in  Tom  Taylor's 
"Masks  and  Faces"  which  is  still  remembered 
with  pleasure  by  a  few  old  playgoers.  Her 
"Galatea"  was  also  much  enjoyed,  and  a  great 
impression  was  made  by  the  wonderful  optical 
illusion  of  the  dissolving  statue  effected  by  Pro- 
fessor Tobin  of  the  Royal  Polytechnic  Institute, 
London,  when  given  in  the  December  of  1872. 
(Miss  Leclercq,  though  she  had  formerly  been 
Fechter's  leading  woman,  was  now  starring  in 
the  various  cities  of  the  country,  supported  by 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  419 

the  regular  stock  companies  of  the  houses  at 
which  she  appeared.  Trained  under  Charles  Kean 
she  brought  to  her  parts,  —  as  did  Ellen  Terry 
and  Agnes  Robertson,  also  early  pupils  of  Kean, 
—  high  gifts  and  rare  beauty.)  But  the  "  golden 
days"  for  the  Globe  began  when  in  September, 
1877,  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  John  Stetson.1 

Under  Stetson,  many  of  the  most  notable 
"star"  engagements  Boston  has  ever  known 
were  played  on  this  site.  For  John  Stetson 
was  a  man  of  strong  purpose  and  great  natural 
ability,  though  possessed  of  such  colossal  ig- 
norance that  one  wonders  how  in  the  world  he 
was  ever  able  to  do  the  work  he  did.  One 
morning,  while  a  dress  rehearsal  was  going  on, 
he  seated  himself  in  the  empty  auditorium  and 
from  his  point  of  vantage  observed  that  one  of 
the  instrumentalists,  the  bass  player,  was  not 
using  his  instrument  continuously.  Assuming 
that  he,  as  a  manager,  was  being  imposed  upon, 
he  tapped  the  musician  on  the  back,  saying : 

"See  here,  why  don't  you  play  your  fiddle?" 

The  bass  player,  pale  as  a  ghost,  answered, 
pointing  to  the  score  :  "I  have  sixteen  bars  rest." 

"That  don't  go  here,"  replied  Stetson  fiercely ; 
"you  play  while  in  the  pit,  and  do  your  resting 
at  home!" 

An  equally  astonishing  story  told  of  Stetson 
is  vouched  for  by  members  of  the  company  then 

1  See  p.  273. 


420  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

rehearsing  Shakespeare's  "As  You  Like  It."  The 
actors  were  being  instructed  in  the  proper  enun- 
ciation of  the  text,  and  Stetson,  annoyed  at  what 
he  considered  the  liberties  being  taken  with  the 
English  language,  called  out  to  the  stage  director : 

"Why  do  these  actors  say  thou,  thine  and 
thee?  Have  them  say  you  and  yours  so  that 
we  can  comprehend  them  !" 

"My  dear  Mr.  Stetson,"  said  the  director, 
"these  are  Shakespeare's  own  instructions." 

"I  am  the  manager  here,"  angrily  responded 
Stetson,  "and  if  Shakespeare  interferes  again 
send  him  to  me  !" 

A  similar  anecdote  is  connected  with  a  re- 
hearsal of  "Paul  Jones"  at  the  Globe.  A  fel- 
low manager  had  called  to  see  Stetson  and,  find- 
ing him  engaged,  watched  a  rehearsal  then  in 
progress  of  this  musical  play  in  which  Agnes 
Huntington  took  the  leading  part.  At  length 
Stetson  came  out  and  asked  what  he  thought 
of  the  piece,  which  had  struck  the  visitor  as  de- 
cidedly heavy  on  the  comedy  side.  "Too  much 
London  Punch  stuff,  John ;  wake  it  up,"  he 
replied.  Shortly  afterward  the  visitor  came 
again,  to  see  the  stage  manager  this  time,  and 
asked  how  things  were  going.  "Not  very  well," 
he  said.  "Stetson  didn't  like  the  piece.  He 
came  down  the  other  day  and  told  me  there 
was  too  much  Punch  and  Judy  stuff  in  it.  I 
wonder  who  put  that  in  his  head." 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  421 

Still  another  Stetson  story  has  to  do  with  the 
late  Salmi  Morse,  a  great  dreamer,  whose  most 
ambitious  dream  was  a  version  of  the  "Passion 
Play,"  which  he  had  produced  in  California 
without  interference,  but  which  the  New  York 
authorities  prohibited,  claiming  that  it  would 
offend  the  majority. 

Morse  was  about  to  submit  to  this  decision 
when  Stetson  came  on  from  Boston  with  the 
idea  of  taking  over  the  production  if  he  found, 
on  investigation,  that  it  was  worthy.  Locating 
the  author  in  a  hall  on  West  Twenty-Third 
Street,  where  he  was  rehearsing,  he  asked  to  see 
the  performance  in  full.  All  passed  off  well  un- 
til it  came  to  the  scene  of  "The  Last  Supper," 
set  with  very  simple  and  appropriate  costumes. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do  there,  Morse,  — 
economize?  You  can't  do  that  in  my  house!" 
shouted  Stetson. 

Morse  was  quick  to  explain  that  he  was  not 
economizing.  He  said  the  costumes  were  very 
costly  and  accurate,  the  same  as  the  Twelve 
Apostles  wore  in  their  period. 

"But  you  can't  come  to  Boston  with  only 
twelve  apostles,"  roared  Stetson;  "I  must  have 
at  least  forty  apostles.  That  would  be  spec- 
tacular !" 

Yet  it  is  not  with  spectacular  things,  chiefly, 
that  the  history  of  the  Globe  Theatre  under 
Stetson  is  bound  up.     For  it  was  this  manager 


422  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

who  brought  over  Salvini  and  Bernhardt,  and 
the  performances  given  here  were,  for  the  most 
part,  of  quite  as  high  grade  as  those  of  the  Bos- 
ton Museum  at  the  other  end  of  the  town. 

The  Boston  Museum  was  at  first  rightly  and 
legitimately  so  called.  Like  all  seaport  towns 
whose  merchant  princes  dealt  with  far-away 
countries,  Boston,  in  the  old  days,  received  many 
curious  and  outlandish  things  —  far  more  than 
could  conveniently  be  shown  in  private  homes, 
however  spacious.  One  by  one,  therefore,  there 
came  into  existence  exhibition  rooms  in  which 
these  treasures  were  displayed,  for  a  price,  to  a 
curious  public.  The  first  of  these  was  the  col- 
lection, made  up  largely  of  wax  figures,  which 
was  exhibited  at  the  American  Coffee  House,  on 
State  Street,  opposite  Kilby,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century;  this  was  re- 
moved by  its  proprietor,  in  1795,  to  "the 
head  of  the  Mall,"  —  which  meant  the  junction 
of  Tremont  Street  with  Bromfield  Street.  A 
famous  "Museum"  stand!  On  this  same  site 
Moses  Kimball  had  been  conducting  an  exhibi- 
tion of  curios  for  some  years  prior  to  the  date  — 
September  14,  1843  —  when  he  took  the  decisive 
step  which  made  him  a  theatre  manager.  This 
fact  it  was  which  assured  the  success  of  his  en- 
terprise. For  he  was  able  to  attract  to  his  play- 
house a  whole  section  of  the  public  which  had 
never  before  attended  any  theatre. 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  423 

On  the  night  that  the  old  Tremont  Theatre 
closed  its  doors  John  G.  Gilbert,  it  will  be 
remembered,  had  earnestly  defended  his  profes- 
sion, pointing  out  that,  though  the  theatre  had  its 
faults,  it  was  also,  potentially,  an  agency  of  great 
social  value  in  the  community  and,  if  only  the 
prejudices  of  its  critics  could  be  met  and  over- 
come, its  very  detractors  would  become  its 
friends.  From  the  subsequent  acts  of  Moses 
Kimball,  I  am  persuaded  that  Gilbert  must 
have  practiced  this  speech  on  him.  At  any  rate 
Kimball  appears  to  have  adopted  Gilbert's  sen- 
timent for  the  motto  of  his  life.  For  very  cau- 
tiously now  he  went  from  one  step  to  another, 
always  taking  great  pains  to  make  no  ene- 
mies, until,  before  people  realized  it,  they  were 
attending  a  theatre  called  the  Boston  Museum. 
I  am  sure  I  may  register  for  innumerable  lovers 
of  the  theatre  deep  gratitude  for  the  adroitness 
with  which  this  impresario  effected  his  transi- 
tions. For  just  when  the  Tremont  finally 
closed  its  doors  Moses  Kimball  was  ready  to 
make  his  plunge,  and  he  did  this  by  engaging 
several  members  of  the  Tremont's  company  to 
come  to  his  playhouse.  Among  them  was  Miss 
Adelaide  Phillips,  then  a  child  of  ten. 

Indissolubly  associated  with  the  history  of 
the  old  Museum  is  the  name  of  William  Warren. 
Born  in  Philadelphia  in  1812,  young  Warren 
was    educated    for    a    commercial    career,    but 


424  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

when  confronted  at  the  age  of  twenty  with 
the  necessity  for  immediate  self-support,  he 
followed  the  line  of  least  resistance  and  went 
upon  the  stage,  as  many  of  his  family  had  done 
before  him.  His  first  appearance  was  at  the 
Arch  Street  Theatre,  October  27,  1832,  as  Young 
Norval,  on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  given  to 
his  lately  widowed  mother  by  his  father's  former 
friends  and  associates.  Then  for  nine  years  he 
led  the  life  of  a  strolling  player,  appearing  with 
decided  success  in  many  cities. 

In  1841  came  his  first  appearance  in  New 
York,  his  part  being  that  of  Grizzle  in  "My 
Young  Wife  and  an  Old  Umbrella."  For  the 
four  following  years  he  played,  in  Buffalo  and 
other  New  York  cities,  the  leading  comedy  parts 
in  a  company  of  which  his  brother-in-law,  J.  B. 
Rice,  was  the  head;  then,  in  1845,  he  took  a 
brief  pleasure  trip  to  England,  there  playing  for 
a  single  benefit  occasion  at  the  Strand  Theatre, 
London. 

To  the  Howard,  and  not  to  the  Museum, 
must,  however,  be  credited  the  initial  Boston 
success  (October,  1846)  of  this  most  versatile 
of  American  comedians.  His  season  at  this 
house  covered  twenty  weeks,  during  which  he 
increasingly  won  the  favor  of  Boston  playgoers. 
On  August  23  following  he  made  his  debut  at 
the  Boston  Museum,  then  in  its  fifth  season. 
The  connection  continued,  with  the  exception 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  425 

of  one  season,  for  a  period  of  nearly  two  score 
years,  years  which  Bostonians  still  cherish  as 
supremely  blessed.  He  died  on  September  21, 
1888,  and  was  buried  from  Trinity  Church. 

On  the  never-to-be-forgotten  night  of  War- 
ren's "Golden  Jubilee,"  October  28,  1882,  he 
said:  "To  have  lived  in  this  city  of  Boston 
happily  for  more  than  five  and  thirty  years,  en- 
gaged in  so  good  and  successful  a  theatre  as 
this,  cheered  always  by  your  favor,  and  then 
to  have  that  residence  crowned  by  such  an 
assemblage  as  I  see  before  me,  is  glory  enough 
for  one  poor  player.  My  humble  efforts  have 
never  gained  me  any  of  the  great  prizes  of 
my  profession  until  now;  but,  failing  to 
reach  the  summit  of  Parnassus,  it  is  some- 
thing to  have  found  so  snug  a  nook  in  the 
mountain-side." 

Warren  could  easily  have  filled  a  larger  sphere 
had  he  so  desired,  however,  for,  like  so  many 
who  have  attained  eminence  in  his  craft,  he  came 
of  a  gifted  player  race.  His  father,  the  elder 
William  Warren,  began  at  the  age  of  seventeen 
to  follow  the  life  of  a  strolling  actor,  emigrated 
to  America  in  1796  and  was  in  turn  a  highly 
successful  player,  a  moderately  successful  mana- 
ger —  and  an  unsuccessful  innkeeper.  It  was 
while  following  this  last-named  trade  that  he 
died  in  Baltimore  in  1832.  He  had  been  three 
times    married.     "Boston's    William    Warren" 


426  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

was  the  son  of  the  third  wife,  Esther  Fortune, 
a  younger  sister  of  Joseph  Jefferson's  grand- 
mother. 

Thus  Jefferson,  with  whom  Warren's  work  is 
often  compared,  was  his  cousin.  Like  Jeffer- 
son in  gentleness  and  quiet  cultivation,  Warren 
was  also  like  him  in  the  quality  of  his  art.  To 
compare  the  respective  rank  of  the  two  men  is 
no  part  of  our  present  purpose,  but  it  ia  interest- 
ing to  see  how  this  matter  looked  to  the  late 
Henry  Austin  Clapp,  a  critic  of  authority: 
"Mr.  Jefferson  can  point,  it  seems  to  me,  to  but 
one  work  of  supreme  distinction,  the  sole  and 
single  product  of  his  life,  the  masterpiece  of 
our  stage,  —  the  figure  of  the  immortal  Rip. 
Our  Warren,  like  another  Rubens,  could  con- 
duct you  through  a  vast  gallery,  crowded  with 
noble  canvases,  of  which  at  least  a  hundred 
glow  with  the  beauty  and  the  truth  of  life,  every 
one  bearing  his  firm  signature." 

Warren  never  married,  and  delightful  anec- 
dotes are  told  of  his  long  residence  at  the  Bea- 
con Hill  boarding-house  presided  over  by  Miss 
Amelia  Fisher.  Miss  Fisher,  the  sister  of  Clara 
Fisher  Maeder,  was  a  sprightly  little  body  who 
had  herself  once  been  an  actress.  The  atmos- 
phere of  her  house  was  delightful  to  stage 
folk,  but  she  took  only  a  few  players  and  they 
the  cream  of  the  profession.  She  never  al- 
lowed   any    of    her    boarders,    except    Warren, 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  427 

to  have  a  latchkey,  preferring  to  sit  up  until 
after  the  theatre  was  over.  John  W.  Ryan, 
to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  many  rich  recol- 
lections of  the  Boston  of  Warren's  day,  tells 
me  that  it  is  Miss  Fisher's  boarding-house 
which,  though  disguised,  is  described  in  Russell 
Sullivan's  charming  story,  "The  Heart  of  Us." 
The  house  was  quite  as  homelike  and  informal 
as  Mr.  Sullivan  there  shows  it,  he  says,  and,  to 
illustrate,  he  tells  of  calling  there  on  one  occa- 
sion to  "interview"  Mrs.  F.  W.  Lander  (Jean 
Davenport) 1  then  just  about  to  appear  as  Hester 
Prynne.  A  picture  of  the  lady  in  her  new  part 
was  desired,  but  all  that  could  be  found  was  a 
photograph  showing  her  as  Cleopatra  —  which 
didn't  exactly  fit.  "Miss  Fisher,  Miss  Fisher," 
she  called  down  the  stairs  to  her  landlady,  "have 
you  any  picture  of  me?"  "No,  dear,"  came 
back  the  cheery  voice.  "I  haven't  and  I'm 
sorry."     So  Mr.  Ryan  bore  off  the  Cleopatra. 

One  delightful  custom  at  Miss  Fisher's  board- 
ing-house was  the  late  supper  which  was  always 
spread  informally  in  the  old-fashioned  kitchen 
after  the  evening  performance.  The  boarders 
dropped  in  as  suited  their  convenience  and  were 

1  Jean  Davenport,  it  is  interesting  to  note,  is  often  credited  with 
having  been  Dickens'  Infant  Phenomenon,  probably  by  reason  of 
the  fact  that  her  father  had  taken  her  on  a  tour  of  the  English  pro- 
vincial theatres  when  she  was  a  mere  child.  As  early  as  1838  she  was 
playing  at  the  National  Theatre  with  such  success  that  her  father 
leased  for  her  the  Lion  Theatre,  on  the  site  of  the  present  Bijou. 
She  was  at  this  time  stated  to  be  "only  eleven  years  of  age." 


428  ROMANTIC  DAYS 

served  by  the  landlady  herself.  Mr.  Ryan  when 
taken  there  on  one  occasion  by  James  W.  Collier, 
a  connection  of  his,  who  was  then  playing  Lan- 
dry Barbaud  in  Maggie  Mitchell's  "Fanchon," 
found  cold  game  pie  for  supper.  Miss  Fisher 
herself  let  the  young  men  in,  as  was  her  wont, 
and,  if  it  had  been  necessary,  would  doubtless 
have  greeted  them  with  a  "Good  morning" 
putting  the  emphasis  on  the  time  of  day.  For 
she  felt  herself  privileged  to  lead  her  guests 
gently  in  the  way  they  should  go.  Once  she 
reminded  George  Honey,  the  comedian,  that  his 
habits  were  a  little  convivial  and  pointed  her 
remark  with  a  significant  "Look  at  Mr.  War- 
ren !"  For  she  enormously  admired  the  charac- 
ter of  her  star  boarder.  Warren  had  a  high  re- 
gard for  her,  too,  and  sometimes,  of  a  warm 
summer  evening,  the  two  old  friends  would  be 
seen  together,  jolting  along  through  the  suburbs 
in  an  open  horse-car.  Warren,  who  always  de- 
clared himself  afraid  to  drive  a  horse,  found 
this  a  capital  way  of  getting  out  of  town  for  a 
draught  of  country  air. 

Inextricably  bound  up  with  recollections  of 
Warren  at  the  Museum  are  the  name  and  the 
fame  of  Mrs.  Vincent.  The  two  were  friends, 
as  well  as  fellow-players,  and  lovers  of  the  thea- 
tre delight  in  memories  of  their  work  together, 
—  even  though  Mrs.  Vincent's  Boston  debut 
was  made  at  the  "old  Nash",  where  she  and  her 


IN  OLD   BOSTON  429 

husband  had  accepted  an  offer  of  William  Pelby 
to  play  stock  parts.  Mrs.  Vincent  at  this  time 
was  twenty-seven,  and  she  played  the  first  old 
maid,  Miss  Biffin,  in  Buckstone's  comedietta, 
"Popping  the  Question,"  with  the  same  spirit 
and  skill  that  many  of  us  today  remember  as 
distinguishing  her  old-woman  parts  of  later 
years.  From  1846  until  the  burning  of  the 
theatre,  April  22,  1852,  she  acted  steadily 
at  this  house  with  the  exception  of  a  short 
period  of  mourning  after  her  husband's  death 
in  1850.  For  a  time  after  the  destruction  of 
the  National  the  company  was  accommodated 
at  the  old  Federal  Street  Theatre,  as  a  play- 
bill, now  in  the  Boston  Public  Library,  on 
which  Mrs.  Vincent  appears  as  Lady  Sneerwell, 
establishes. 

Agnes  Robertson,  who  played  at  the  Museum 
for  a  season,  and  who,  though  married  to  Dion 
Boucicault,  was  cast  off  by  him  when  it 
suited  his  desires  to  declare  her  no  longer  his 
wife,  was  another  great  favorite  with  Boston 
theatre-goers.  Miss  Robertson  had  been  a 
member  of  Mrs.  Charles  Kean's  company  in 
London  when  Boucicault  presented  his  own  first 
play,  "The  Vampire,"  at  the  Princess's  The- 
atre in  1852,  and  when  his  first  wife,  a  wealthy 
widow,  died  opportunely  in  Switzerland,  Bou- 
cicault promptly  married  the  girl  who  had  cap- 
tivated  his   fancy.     Soon  afterwards  the  two 


430  ROMANTIC   DAYS 

sailed  for  America.  Thinking  that  his  young 
wife  would  prove  a  greater  attraction  if  billed 
under  her  maiden  name,  Boucicault  kept  the 
marriage  a  secret  for  some  time.  Meanwhile 
Agnes  Robertson  was  the  sensation  of  the  hour. 
Mrs.  Vincent  proved  herself  to  be  a  real  friend 
during  this  period  of  lionizing  on  the  part  of 
the  public  and  shoulder-shrugging  on  the  part 
of  the  Museum  company.  Not  improbably  she 
had  something  to  do  with  Boucicault's  tardy 
acknowledgment  of  this  dainty  maiden  as  his 
wife ;  at  any  rate  he  came  on  the  stage  of 
the  Boston  Museum  one  evening,  said  the  few 
necessary  words  —  and  idle  talk  was  set  at 
rest.1  Boucicault's  lack  of  consideration  for  his 
young  wife  seems  to  have  been  characteristic 
of  the  man.  John  Brougham,  a  fellow-Irish- 
man, once  said  of  him,  "If  Dion  had  to  play  a 
second-old-man  he  would  scalp  his  grandfather 
for  the  wig."  This  remark  was  made  after 
Boucicault  had  tried  to  cheat  Brougham  out  of 
his  rights  in  "London  Assurance!" 

Trained  in  the  farces  and  comedies  of  fifty 
years  ago  and  accustomed  to  play  her  many 
parts  mentally  as  well  as  physically,  Mrs.  Vin- 
cent, as  an  actress,  had  the  same  quietly  humor- 

1  Boucicault  had  not  yet  begun  to  write  the  Irish  plays  with  which 
his  fame  is  bound  up.  "The  Colleen  Bawn,"  his  first  success  in 
this  way,  was  not  brought  out  until  March  29,  1860,  at  Laura 
Keene's  Theatre,  New  York  ;  it  was  then,  too,  that  he  made  his 
decisive  mark  as  an  actor. 


IN  OLD  BOSTON  431 

ous  methods  which  we  associate  with  John 
Gibbs  Gilbert  and  with  Jefferson.  Her  fun, 
as  Professor  George  P.  Baker  has  pointed  out, 
came  from  the  brain,  "and  from  her  keen  appre- 
ciation of  the  part  and  the  situations.  The 
round  jolly  figure,  the  cheery  face,  the  tripping 
walk,  the  odd  gasping  little  voice,  were  instinct 
with  fun.  The  moment  she  appeared  the  au- 
dience smiled ;  when  she  spoke,  they  shouted." 
Howells  once  wrote  of  her  Mrs.  Malaprop  that 
it  was  a  pity  Sheridan  could  not  have  lived  to 
see  her  in  the  part.  Boucicault  did  live  to  see 
her  as  Conn's  mother  in  "The  Shaughraun," 
—  was  never  happier,  indeed,  than  when  acting 
opposite  her  richly  humorous  interpretation  of 
this  part,  with  which  most  of  my  readers  imme- 
diately connect  her. 

Almost  until  the  day  of  her  death  this  re- 
markable woman  continued  to  delight  her  public, 
keeping  on  at  her  chosen  work  and  acting  her 
parts  with  no  perceptible  lessening  of  spirit  and 
vigor  until  her  seventieth  birthday  was  so 
near  that  she  could  "smell"  it  —  as  Mrs.  Julia 
Ward  Howe  once  said  of  a  similar  festivity. 
We  of  today  do  her  honor  by  helping  to  support 
the  Boston  hospital  which  bears  her  name  and 
which  derives  a  considerable  portion  of  its 
regular  income  from  dramatic  performances  of 
the  Vincent  Club,  made  up  of  Boston's  young 
society  girls  who  love  the  theatre. 


INDEX 


Adams,  Charles  Francis,  398. 
Adams,  Hannah,  392. 
Adams,  John,  1. 
Adams,  Laban,  333. 
Adams,  Mrs.  John  Quincy,  368. 
Adams,  Rev.  Nehemiah,  133. 
Adams,  Phineas,  388. 
Adams,  Samuel,  86. 
Agassiz,  Louis,  403. 
Agassiz,  Mrs.  Louis,  370. 
Alcott,  Bronson,  46,  66,  96. 
Alcott,  Louisa  M.,  217. 
Aldrich,    Thomas    Bailey,    385, 

386,  387. 
Alexander,  Cosmo,  281,  282. 
Alexander,  Francis,  362. 
Alexis,  Grand  Duke,  365. 
Allston,  Washington,  179,  283, 

284. 
American  Coffee  House,  422. 
American  House,  351. 
Ames,  Joseph,  285. 
Amory,  Mrs.  George  E.,  368. 
Amory,  Rufus  G.,  13. 
Anderson,  J.  R.,  241. 
Anderson,  Mary,  417. 
Andrew,  John  Albion,  225,  231, 

232,  235,  236,  237,  286,  335. 
Anglin,  Margaret,  267. 
Appleton,  Nathan,  22. 
Appleton,  Samuel,  346. 
Appleton,    Thomas   Gold,    150, 

315,  382. 
Appleton,  William,  22. 
Arch  Street  Theatre,  424. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  401.    . 
Astor  Place  Opera  House,  412. 
"As  You  Like  It,"  408,  420. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  383. 
Austin,  James  Tricothic,  136, 137. 

Bacon,  Delia,  375-381. 
Bacon,  Dr.  Leonard,  377. 
Baker,  Professor  George  P.,  431. 
Baldwin,     Christopher    Colum- 
bus, 408. 


Ball,  Thomas,  313. 
Baltimore,  425. 
Bancroft,  George,  387. 
Banks,  Mrs.  N.  P.,  367. 
Barnard,  Rev.  Charles,  316. 
Barnum,  Phineas  T.,  289,  290, 

291,  293. 
Barrell,  Joseph,  12. 
Barrett,  George,  406. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  417. 
Barry,  Thomas,  242,  268,  415. 
Barry,  Mrs.  Thomas,  415. 
Bass,  Seth,  396. 
Bates,  Joshua,  399. 
Beecher,  Dr.  Edward,  187. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  176. 
Beecher,  Rev.  Lyman,  21,  97,  98, 

99,  168,  199,  249,  250,  261. 
Benjamin,  Park,  242. 
Bernard,  John,  404,  406. 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  416,  422. 
Bigelow,  Mayor  John  P.,  398. 
Bijou  Theatre,  411. 
Billings,    Hammatt,    101,    254, 

286. 
Billings,  J.  E.,  254. 
Birney,  James  C,  109. 
Blagden,  Rev.  G.  W.,  398. 
"Blithedale  Romance,"  31,  34, 

51,  55. 
Bolton,  Charles  Knowles,  396. 
Bond,  George  W.,  135. 
Booth,   Edwin,   261,   271,   272, 

387,  415,  416. 
Booth,  J.  B.,  239,  240,  406,  415. 
Booth,  John  Wilkes,  264,   265, 

272,  408. 
Boott,  Kirk,  350. 
Boston  Advertiser,  341,  342. 
Boston  Athenaeum,  13,  154,  388- 

397. 
Boston  Authors'  Club,  viii,  402. 
Boston  Common,  7,  10,  11,  19, 

91,  92,  152,  351,  355,  371. 
Boston  Custom  House,  33,  387. 
Boston  Latin  School,  151. 


434 


INDEX 


Boston  Museum,  248,  251-267, 

406,  418,  422-424,  429,  430. 
Boston  Music  Hall,  197, 208,  215, 

216,  217,  224,  278. 
Boston  Public  Library,  10,  123, 

211,397-400,429. 
Boston  Theatre,  267-273,   314, 

365,  413-417. 
Boston  Transcript,  140,  148,  206. 
Boston  Traveller,  331. 
Boucicault,  Dion,  429-430,  431. 
Bowditch,  Nathaniel  Ingersoll,  3, 

4,  294. 
Bowditch,  William  I.,  323. 
Bowery,  412. 
Bowles,  Samuel,  321. 
Bowman,  Brooks,  335. 
Boyden,  Dwight,  333,  347. 
Boyden,  Simeon,  333. 
Bradford,  George  P.,  29,  36. 
Bradford,  Sarah  H.,  125. 
Breck,  Samuel,  17,  307,  326. 
Brewer,  Gardner,  413. 
Brimmer,  Martin,  286,  358. 
Brisbane,  Albert,  49. 
Bromfield  House,  333,  334,  335. 
Brook  Farm,  1-55. 
Brooks,  Peter  C,  346. 
Brooks,  Phillips,  359,  360,  361. 
Brooks,  Preston  S.,  195,  196. 
Brougham,  John,  430. 
Brown,  Albert  G.,  Jr.,  237. 
Brown,  John,  192,  193,  194,  196, 

197,  224,  236. 
Brownson,  Orestes  Augustus,  47. 
Bruce,  Georgiana,  37. 
Bryant,  Gridley,  342. 
Buckingham,  Joseph  T.,  86,  90, 

343. 
Buckminster,  Rev.  J.  S.,  390. 
Buffalo,  424. 
Buitt,     Martha     Haines,     368, 

369. 
fcBulfinch,  Charles,  11,  13,  15. 
Bull,  Ole,  289,  295,  304,  305. 
Bunker  Hill  Monument,  11,  186, 

245,  250,  342,  349,  370. 
Burke,  Master,  240,  246. 
Burns,  Anthony,  140,  142. 
Burr,  Aaron,  154. 
Bussey,  Benjamin,  12. 
Butler,  Senator,  195. 


Butterfield,    Rebecca    Codman, 
24,  36,  39,  41,  42. 

Cabot,  Samuel,  Jr.,  194. 
Cabot,  Susan,  107. 
Cary,  Annie  Louise,  296. 
Carlyle,   Thomas,   25,   56,    177, 

178,  377,  378. 
Castle  Garden,  412. 
Chadwick,  John  White,  199,  201. 
Chapman,  Henry  G.,  126. 
Chapman,  Maria  Weston,   107, 

117,  121,  126,  127,  128,  131, 

134,  176. 
Channing,  Ann,  284. 
Channing,  Dr.  Walter,  398. 
Channing,   William   Ellery,    91, 

108,  109,  110,  130,  131,  135, 

284.  m 
Charming,   William  Henry,   51, 

53,  79,  170. 
Chapman,  Mayor  Jonathan,  398. 
Chatham  Garden  Theatre,  New 

York,  412. 
Cheney,  Arthur,  273. 
Cheney,  Ednah  Dow,  70,  71,  91, 

93,  124,  205. 
Chickering,  Jonas,  303. 
Child,  David  Lee,  22,  105. 
Child,  Lydia  Maria,  70,  107,  108, 

112,  132,  193. 
Choate,  Rufus,  179,  402. 
Christian  Examiner,   The,    100, 

101. 
Church  Green,  13,  99,  100,  356. 
Claflin,  William,  278. 
Clapp,  Henry  Austin,  257,  272, 

273  426. 
Clapp,  John  Bouve,  253. 
Clapp,  William  W.  Jr.,  267. 
Clarke,  James  Freeman,  57,  63, 

67,  83,  84,  322. 
Codman,  Dr.  John  Thomas,  25, 

35,  45,  51,  54. 
Collier,  James  W.,  428. 
Collier,  Rev.  William,  385. 
Colonnade  Row,  10. 
Colver,  Rev.  Nathaniel,  249. 
Continental  Theatre,  411. 
Conway,  H.  J.,  261. 
Conway,  William  Augustus,  406. 
Cooke,  George  Frederick,  405. 


INDEX 


435 


Coolidge,  Joseph,  342. 

Cooper,  406,  407. 

Copley,  John  Singleton,  281,  283. 

Corbett,  Alexander,  Jr.,  269. 

Cotting,  Uriah,  4. 

Craft,  Ellen,  125,  214,  215. 

CrandaU,  Prudence,  110. 

Crocker,  George  Glover,  342. 

Crockett,  Col.  Selden,  333. 

Crockett,  S.  Frank,  333. 

Curtis,  George  William,  24,  38, 

183,  196,  400. 
Curtis,  Mrs.  Greeley  S.,  368. 
Cushing,  Caleb,  325. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  243,  273- 

279,  322,  401,  411,  417. 
Cutter,  Charles  Ammi,  396. 

Dana,  Charles  A.,  24,  36,  37,  42, 

52. 
Dana,  Richard  Henry,  284. 
Dana,  Richard  H.,  Jr.,  146. 
Davenport,  E.  L.,  248,  413,  415, 

417. 
Davenport,  Fanny,  413. 
Davenport,  Hart,  340. 
Davenport,  Jean,  246,  427. 
Davies,  J.,  261. 
Davis,  Edmund  T.,  389. 
Davis,  Hon.  John,  389. 
Dean,  Julia,  416. 
De  Stael,  Madame,  165. 
Dexter,  Mrs.  F.  Gordon,  368. 
Dickens,  Charles,  309,  349,  351, 

362-365. 
Dickinson,  Anna,  323. 
Dickson,  James  A.,  404,  405. 
Ditson,  Oliver,  297,  413. 
Dix,  Dorothea  Lynde,  227-231. 
Dodge,  Mary  Mapes,  323. 
Dolby,  George,  363,  364. 
Dom  Pedro,  350,  370,  371. 
Douglass,  Frederick,  176. 
Drake,  Samuel  Adams,  13. 
D wight,  Edmund,  346. 
Dwight,  John  S.,  36,  53,  297. 

Eastern  Stage  House,  341. 
Eaton,  Charles  H.,  243. 
Edward  VII.,  365-370. 
Eichberg,  Julius,  297. 
Eliot,  Pres.  Charles  William,  403. 


Ellis,  David,  12. 

Ellis,  Rev.  George  E.,  337. 

Ellsler,  Fanny,  38,  244,  245. 

Eliot,  Samuel,  346,  390,  398. 

Eliot,  Mrs.  Samuel,  18. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  26,  58, 
63,  64,  66,  73,  82,  169,  177, 
180,  201,  224-226,  244,  321- 
323,  337,  351,  371,  377,  378, 
382,  395. 

Emerson,  Rev.  William,  389. 

Endicott,  WiUiam,  Jr.,  358. 

English,  WiUiam  B.,  410. 

English,  Mrs.  WiUiam  B.,  410. 

Evans  House,  313. 

Everett,  Edward,  257,  294,  346, 
366,  398. 

Exchange  Coffee  House,  11,  332, 
340,  352. 

"Fanchon,"  428. 

FaneuU  HaU,  2,  22, 106, 112,  113, 

135,139, 142, 144, 165, 185, 186. 
Farrar,  Mrs.  John,  69,  375. 
Fechter,  Charles,  272,  273,  417, 

418. 
Federal  Street  Theatre,  404-408, 

429. 
Field,'Kate,  287,  321,  323. 
Field,  R.  M.,  264. 
Fields,  James  T.,  234,  364,  400, 

401,  414. 
Fields,  Mrs.  James  T.,  191,  316, 

362-364. 
Fillmore,  President,  311,  350. 
Finn,  Henry,  406. 
Fisher,  AmeUa,  426. 
Fisher,  Clara,  408,  409. 
Follen,  Charles,  130. 
FoUen,  EUza  Lee,  107. 
Folsom,  Charles,  396. 
Foote,  Rev.  Henry  W.,  279. 
Forbes,  John  Murray,  15,  16. 
Forrest,  Edwin,  238,  262,  349, 

406,  417. 
Fourier,  Charles,  49. 
Fortune,  Esther,  426. 
Fox,  Caroline,  253. 
Fries,  Mrs.  Wulf,  261,  409. 
Frothingham,  Rev.  O.  B.,  44. 
FuUer,  Margaret,  54,  55-82, 110, 

244. 


436 


INDEX 


Gaiety  Theatre,  411. 

"  Galatea",  418. 

Gannett,  Rev.  Ezra  S.,  65,  129, 

316,  398. 
Gardiner,  John  L.,  346. 
Gardiner,  Doctor,  note  405. 
Gardiner,  R.  H.,  389. 
Garrison,  Francis  Jackson,  x. 
Garrison,  Helen  Benson,  117-123. 
Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  83,  85- 

90,    94-104,    106,    108,    110, 

111,   113-118,   122,  123,   127, 

128 
"George  Barnwell,"  409. 
Geyer,  Frederick,  13. 
Gifford,  Rev.  O.  P.,  169. 
Gilbert,  John  Gibbs,  239,  248, 

250,  270,  415,  423,  431. 
Gilbert,  Mrs.  John  Gibbs,  415. 
Gilchrist,  Mrs.  Anne,  371-375. 
Gilmore,  Patrick  Sarsfield,  295- 

297,  299. 
"Gleaner"  papers,  4. 
Globe  Theatre,  273,  419-421. 
Goddard,  Nathaniel,  12. 
"Golden    Jubilee"    of    Warren, 

425. 
Goldschmidt,  Otto,  293. 
Graham.  Dr.  Sylvester,  48. 
Grant,  U.  S.,  350. 
Gray,  Horace,  342. 
Gray,  Hon.  William,  226. 
Gray,  William,  12,  352. 
Greeley,  Horace,  77. 
Green,  Dr.  Samuel  A.,  174,  367. 
Greenwood,  Grace,  321. 
Grimke,  Angelina,  124,  125,  131, 

133. 
Grimke,  Sarah,  124. 
Guild,  Samuel  E.,  8. 

Hackett,   James   H.,   247,    248, 

411,  412,  417. 
Haggerty,  Anna,  232. 
Hale,  Edward  Everett,  355. 
Hale,  Nathan,  342. 
Hall,  Captain  Basil,  343. 
Hallett,  Benjamin  F.,  136. 
Hallowell,  Col.  Edward,  232. 
Hallowell,  Col.  Norwood,  232. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  154. 
Harbinger,  The,  24,  38,  40,  50,  51. 


Harding,  Chester,  18,  285. 
Hathorne,  J.  H.,  336. 
Hawthorne,  Julian,  57,  58,  339. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  24,  33, 

34,  51,  54-58,  339,  378,379, 

381,  387,  394,  401. 
Hayden,  Lewis,  140. 
Haymarket  Theatre,  405. 
Healy,  George  P.  A.,  314. 
"The  Heart  of  Us,"  427. 
Hecker,  Father  Isaac,  41. 
Henry,  Mrs.,  406. 
Heywood,  Mrs.  J.  P.,  394. 
Higginson,  George,  358. 
Higginson,  Henry  Lee,  225,  295. 
Higginson,  Col.  Thomas  Went- 

worth,  viii,  ix,  60,  80,  81,  140, 

223,  224,  230,  235,  323,  337, 

388 
Hill,  Henry,  12. 
HiUiard,  George  S.,  317,  335. 
Hollis  Street  Church,  253. 
Holman,  Joseph  G.,  406. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  43,  63, 

383,  384,  414. 
Honey,  George,  428. 
Horticultural  Hall,  251. 
Hovey,  C.  F.,  13. 
Hovey,  Henry,  346. 
Howard   Athenseum,    246,    247, 

248,  249,  262,  263,  411,  412, 

413,  424,  431. 
Howe,  Julia  Ward,  viii,  ix,  52, 

318  319 
Howe'  Dr." Samuel  G.,  144,  179, 

193   199  318 
Howells,  William  Dean,  403,  431. 
Hull,  Commodore  Isaac,  349. 
Hunt,  Sarah,  220. 
Hunt,  William  Morris,  285,  286, 

287,  288. 
Huntington,  Agnes,  420. 

Incledon,  Benjamin  Charles,  407. 
India  Wharf  Proprietors,  15,  16. 
Irving,  Henry,  417. 

Jackson,  Pres.  Andrew,  349. 
Jackson,  Judge  Charles,  12. 
Jackson,  Francis,  117,  126. 
Jacobs,  Harriet,  124. 
James,  Henry,  322. 


INDEX 


437 


Janauschek,  Madam  Fanny,  411, 

417. 
Jarrett,  H.  J.,  415. 
Jefferson,  Joseph,  248,  417,  426, 

431. 
Jewett,  Charles  Coffin,  399. 
Jewett,  J.  P.,  186,  188,  189. 
Jewett,  Sarah  Orne,  401. 
Johannes,  Count,  410. 
Johnson,  Oliver,  102,  105,  137. 
Jones,  George,  410. 
Julien  House,  341. 

Keach,  E.  F.,  257,  261,  263,  264. 
Kean,  Charles,  412,  417,  419. 
Kean,  Mrs.  Charles,  412,  417. 
Kean,  Edmund,  241,  406. 
Kean  Riots,  417. 
Kemble,  Charles,  242. 
Kemble,  Fanny,  124,  242,  243, 

316. 
Kimball,  Ebenezer,  336. 
Kimball,  Moses,  251,  252,  254, 

422,  423. 
King's  Chapel,  279,  304. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  401. 
Kirkland,  Rev.  John  T.,  389. 
Knapp,  Arthur  Mason,  400. 
Knapp,  Isaac,  101,  105. 
Knight,  Madam,  326. 
Knowles,  James  Sheridan,  276. 
Knowlton,  Helen  M.,  286. 
Kossuth,  184,  185. 

Lafayette,   General,   9-12,    152, 

184,338. 
Lamb  Tavern,  332. 
Lane,  William  Coolidge,  396. 
Lathrop,  Rose  Hawthorne,  56. 
Lawrence,  Amos  A.,  192. 
Lawrence,  William,  346. 
Leonard,  Joseph,  268. 
Lewis,  Alonzo,  105. 
Liberator,  The,  100-105, 113, 114, 

116,  118. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  191,  236,  239. 
Lincoln,    Mayor   Frederick    N., 

Jr.,  366. 
Lind,  Jenny,  259,  289-291,  293- 

295,  350. 
Livermore,  Mary  A.,  176,  182. 
Lodge,  Henry  Cabot,  177. 


Longfellow,  Henry  Wads- 
worth,  322,  366,  370,  382, 
395. 

Loring,  Ellis  Gray,  105,  130. 

Loring,  Mrs.  Ellis  Gray,  70,  107. 

"Lotta"  (Charlotte  Crab  tree), 
417. 

Lovejoy,  Rev.  Elijah  P.,  135. 

Lowell,  Charles  Russell,  225. 

Lowell,  James  Jackson,  225,  337. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  60,  127, 
218,  234,  383,  384. 

Lowell,  John,  389. 

Lundy,  Benjamin,  88. 

Lyman,  Theodore,  Jr.,  20,  115, 
117. 

Macready,  William  C,  349,  411. 
Maeder,  Clara  Fisher,  426. 
Mann,  Horace,  179,  339. 
Manning,  Rev.  J.  M.,  225. 
Mario,  Giuseppe,  417. 
Marlborough  House,   338,   339, 

385 
Marshall,  Emily,  17-19,  91,  317. 
Marshall,  Josiah,  18. 
Marshall,  Wyzeman,  270,  415. 
Marshfield,  185. 
Martineau,  Harriet,  69,  124,  126, 

127,  129,  130,  168,  343. 
Martyn,  Carlos,  157,  171,  182. 
"Masks  and  Faces,"  418. 
Mason,  Hon.  Jeremiah,  97. 
Mather,  Cotton,  86. 
Mathew,  Father,  163. 
Mathews,  Charles,  417. 
Mathews,  Charles,  Sr.,  406. 
May,  Frederick  W.  C,  91. 
May,  Rev.  Samuel  J.,  95,  99, 

100,  105,  109,  110. 
Mayer,  Mrs.,  266. 
McCarthy,  Justin,  277. 
McCullough,  J.  E.,  417. 
Melodeon  Theatre,  411. 
Mill,  Mrs.  John  Stuart,  182. 
Miller,  Father,  247. 
Mitchell,  Maggie,  428. 
Morris,  Clara,  417. 
Morse,  S.  F.  B.,  353. 
Morse,  Salmi,  421. 
Morton,  Abigail,  37. 
Morton,  Ichabod,  40. 


438 


INDEX 


Motley,  John  Lothrop,  150,  388, 

402. 
Mott,  Lucretia,  182. 
Moulton,  Louise  Chandler,  321, 

402. 
Mowatt,  Mrs.  Anna  Cora,  412. 
Murdock,  Harold,  355. 
"My  Young  Wife  and  an  Old 

Umbrella,"  424. 

Nathan,  James,  77-79. 
National  Intelligencer,  The,  103. 
National  (Italian  Opera  House), 

New  York,  412. 
National  Theatre,  246,  252,  262, 

409,  410,  428. 
Neilson,  Adelaide,  417. 
New  Tremont  Theatre,  411. 
Nilsson,  Christine,  350. 
Norcross,  Otis,  358. 
Norton,  Andrews,  205. 
Norton,  Charles  Eliot,  402. 
Noury,  H.,  268. 

"Octoroon,  The,"  413. 

"Old  Corner  Book  Store,"  400. 

Old  Court  House,  139-142,  144, 

146. 
"OldDrury,"407. 
Old  South  Church,  151,  225,  357. 
Old  State  House,  20,  114,  115, 

353 
Oliver,  F.  J.,  342. 
Olympia  Theatre,  408. 
O'Connell,  Daniel,  111,  163,  164, 

172,  184. 
O'Reilly,  John  Boyle,  21, 224, 403. 
O'Reilly,  Mary  Boyle,  21. 
Orvis,  John,  53. 
Ossoli,  Marchesa  d',  see  Fuller, 

Margaret. 
Ossoli,  Marquis,  79-82. 
Otis,  Harrison  Gray,  5,  13,  16, 

17,  19,  103,  113,  152,  342,  346, 

390. 
Otis,  Mrs.  Harrison  Gray,  227, 

298,  306-308,  310,  311,  313, 

314. 
Otis,  William  Foster,  18. 

Paine,  J.  K.,  297. 
Papanti,  Lorenzo,  314,  315. 


Papyrus  Club,  403. 
Parepa-Rosa,  295,  299,  301,  350. 
Park  Street  Church,  355. 
Parker  House,  151,  279. 
Parker,  John,  197. 
Parker,  Lydia  Cabot,  202-204. 
Parker,  Mary  S.,  116. 
Parker,  Theodore,  51,  67,  139, 

143,  175,  176,  183,  193,  197- 

223,  277. 
Parkman,  Francis,  219,  388. 
Parsons,   Hon.   Theophilus,    22, 

389. 
Parsons,  Thomas  W.,  270. 
"Passion  Play,"  421. 
Patti,  Adelina,  270,  350. 
"Paul  Jones,"  420. 
Payne,  John  Howard,  241,  242, 

406. 
Peabody,  Elizabeth,  67. 
Peabody,  Sophia,  57. 
Peace  Jubilee,  295-302. 
Peale,  Rembrandt,  251. 
Pease,  Elizabeth,  161. 
Pelby,  William,  246,  408,   409, 

429. 
Perilli,  248. 

Perkins,  Augustus  T.,  17. 
Perkins,  James,  390,  391. 
Perkins,  Louisa  Dumaresq,  286. 
Perkins,     Thomas     Handyside, 

346. 
Perry,  Nora,  321. 
Phelps,  Dr.  Abner,  105. 
Phelps,  Rev.  Amos  A.,  104. 
Phillips,  Adelaide,  252,  259,  289, 

295,  301-304,  417,  423. 
Phillips,  Ann  Greene,  107,  128, 

135,  156-163,  175,  181. 
Phillips,  Mayor  John,  5,  6. 
Phillips,  Jonathan,  136. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  83,  107,  128, 

135-137,     150-197,    223-225, 

314,  323. 
Pierce,  Benjamin,  402. 
Pierce,  Franklin,  325,  350. 
Pierpont,  Rev.  John,  8,  91,  108, 

253. 
Poe,  Edgar  A.,  56,  406. 
Poole,  William  F.,  396. 
Pope,  Mr.,  407. 
"Popping  the  Question,"  429. 


INDEX 


439 


Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  404. 
Prescott,  William  H.,  387. 
Princess  Theatre,  London,  429. 
Proctor,  Joseph,  417. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  12,  153. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  Mayor,  1,  2,  5-9, 

11,  13,  346. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  Jr.,  398. 
Quincy  Market,  7. 

Rachel,  Madam,  416,  417. 
Radical    Club,    169,    170,    223, 

319-324. 
Recamier,  Madame,  65. 
Revere  House,   268,   293,   350, 

366. 
Rice,  J.  B.,  424. 
Rich,  Isaac  B.,  248. 
Ripley,   George,   25-29,  35,  39, 

43,  44,  54,  204. 
Ripley,  Hannah  B.,  37. 
Ripley,  Marianne,  37. 
Ripley,  Sophia  W.,  37,  42. 
Ristori,  Adelaide,  417. 
Robertson,  Agnes,  265,  266,  419, 

429,  430. 
Robinson,  William,  345. 
Rogers,  Nathaniel,  338. 
Ronalds,  Fanny  Carter,  368. 
Rossetti,  William,  371,  372. 
Royal  Polytechnic  Institute,  418. 
Rudersdorf,  Madame,  392. 
Russell,  Amelia,  38. 
Russell,  George,  144. 
Russell,  Martha,  142. 
Russell  and  Company,  15,  16. 
Ryan,  John  W.,  409,  427,  428. 
Ryan,  Thomas,  289,  291. 

St.  Gaudens,  Augustus,  234. 
St.  James  Theatre,  411. 
Salvini,  Tommaso,  417,  421. 
Sanborn,  F.  B.,  154,  192,  321. 
Sargent,  Epes,  414. 
Sargent,  Franklin  Haven,  320, 

322 
Sargent,  Rev.  John  T.,  169,  223. 
Sargent,  Mrs.  John  T.,  319-324. 
Saturday  Club,  402. 
Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  409. 
Savage,  H.  W.,  416. 


Savage,  James,  Jr.,  225. 
Savannah,  Ga.,  404. 
Schultze,  William,  295. 
Schurz,  Carl,  322. 
Scott,    Dorothy    Quincy    Han- 
cock, 10. 
Scudder,  Vida  D.,  31. 
Sears,  David,  346,  413. 
Sewall,  Samuel  E.,  95,  96,  100, 

104. 
Seward,  William  H.,  223. 
Shackford,    Rev.     Charles    C, 

205. 
Shaw,  Chief  Justice,  286,  337. 
Shaw,  Francis  Gould,  51,  202. 
Shaw,   Robert  Gould,   51,  202, 

226,  231-234. 
Shaw,  Major  Samuel,  14. 
Shaw,  William  Smith,  389,  396. 
Shepard,  Preston,  333. 
Shillaber,  B.  P.,  335. 
Sims,  Thomas  M.,  140. 
Sinclair,  Catherine,  410. 
Smith,  Sydney,  177. 
Smith,  J.  A.,  261. 
Smith,  W.  H.,  257,  261. 
Sontag,  Madame,  248. 
Sothern,  Edward  A.,  248,  410, 

417. 
Sparks,  Jared,  201,  366. 
Snelling,  William  J.,  105. 
Spring,  Mrs.  Marcus,  82. 
Stackpole  House,  338. 
Stanley,  Dean,  355. 
Stearns,  George  Luther,  193. 
Stebbins,  Emma,  275. 
Stetson,  John,  248,  273,  419. 
Stevens,  Benjamin  F.,  347. 
Stevens,  Paran,  349,  350. 
Stone,  Lucy,  182. 
Story,  Judge  Joseph,  154,  328, 

346. 
Story,  Mrs.  W.  S.,  80,  81. 
Stowe,    Harriet    Beecher,   186- 

191,  261,  316. 
Strand  Theatre,  London,  424. 
Stuart,  Gilbert,  281,  282,  283. 
Studio  Building,  410. 
Sullivan,  Russell,  427. 
Sumner,  Charles,  154,  155,  178- 

181,  195,  196,  351. 
Sullivan,  Governor  James,  12. 


440 


INDEX 


Swift,  Lindsay,  28,  33,  52. 
Sylvester,  John,  389. 

Tappan,  Arthur,  90,   110,   112, 

158. 
Tappan,  Lewis,  110. 
Taylor,  Bayard,  401. 
Taylor,  Father,  383. 
Tedesco,  248. 
Terry,  Ellen,  417,  419. 
Thacher,  Peter  O.,  389. 
Thackeray,  401. 
Thayer,  Mr.,  415. 
Thoman,  Mrs.,  261. 
Thompson,     George,     111-113, 

114,  119. 
Thorndike,  Israel,  342. 
Thorne,  Mrs.  Charles,  409. 
Ticknor,  Anna,  318. 
Ticknor,  George,  9,  203. 
Ticknor,  Mrs.  George,  317,  318. 
Tobin,  Professor,  418. 
Tompkins,  Eugene,  415. 
Tompkins,    Dr.    Orlando,    271, 

272. 
Topliff,  Samuel,  351-353. 
Tourjee,  Eben,  297. 
Traubel,  Horace,  375. 
Tremont  House,  241,  245,  345- 

350  401 
Tremont     Temple,     238,     250, 

289. 
Tremont  Theatre,  238,  240,  241, 

243,  244,  249,  250,  252. 
Trinity  Church,    358-361,    note 

405. 
Trollope,  Anthonv,  401. 
Tudor,  Frederick,'  346. 
Tudor,  William,  Jr.,  389. 

United  States  Hotel,  350. 
Urso,  Camilla,  295. 
Ursuline  Convent,  9,  20,  22. 
"Used  Up,"  417. 

"Vampire,  The,"  429. 

Van  Buren,  Martin,  349. 

VandenhofT,  George,  415. 

Vattemare,  Alexandre,  397-399. 

Viennoise  Children,  412. 

Vincent  Club,  431. 

Vincent,     Mary     Ann     Farley, 


261-263,  266,  267,   410,   416, 
428,  430. 
Von  Arnim,  Bettine,  207. 

WaUack,  J.  W.,  415. 
Wallack,  Lester,  248. 
Walter,  Cornelia,  206. 
Walter,  Lynde,  206. 
Ward,  Samuel  G.,  294. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  190. 
Warren,  Dr.  John  C,  26. 
Warren,  Samuel  D.,  358. 
Warren,  William,  248,  256-259, 

261,  406,  423-426,  428. 
Warren,  William,  Sr.,  425. 
Washington,  George,  283,  313, 

314. 
Washington  Theatre,  418. 
Watson,  Rev.  John  Lee,  19. 
Webster,    Daniel,   67,   97,    174, 

177,  178,  181,  185,  187,  211, 

215,  250,  292,  307,  344,  346, 

349,  350. 
Weiss,  John,  170,  200,  323. 
Weiss,  Madam,  412. 
Weld,  Theodore,  125. 
Wells,  Charles,  20. 
Wells,  Mrs.  Kate  Gannett,  317, 

333. 
Wentworth,  Jason,  411. 
West,  Benjamin,  281. 
Western,  Helen,  410. 
Western,  Lucille,  410,  417. 
Wheatley,  Mr.,  416. 
Whipple,  Edwin  P..  402. 
Whitman,  Frank,  261. 
Whitman,  Sarah  W.,  288. 
Whitman,  Walt,  418,  322,  351, 

371-375,  385. 
Whittier,  J.   G.,  134,  322,   370, 

385. 
William  Warren  Comedy  Com- 
pany, 416. 
Williams,   Archbishop  John  J., 

403. 
Willis,  N.  P.,  viii,  18,  124. 
Wiley,  Stephen,  335. 
Wilson,  John,  262. 
Winslow,  Kate  Reignolds,  255, 

258,  263-265,  415. 
Winsor,  Justin,  86,  399. 
Winter  Garden  Company,  415. 


INDEX 


441 


Winthrop,  Robert  C,  6,  22,  359, 

398. 
Wolcott,  Josiah,  39. 
Wood,  John,  415. 
Wood,  Mrs.,  415. 
Wood,  Mrs.  Joseph,  243. 


Woolson,     Mrs.    Abba    Goold, 
297. 

Young,  Rev.  Alexander,  99. 

Zerrahn,  Carl,  295,  366. 


DATE  DUE 

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